


Young and Young at Heart (Rewrite of The Walking Dead Game:S2)

by JGrayDingler



Series: The Great Walking Dead Game AU Trilogy [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game), The Walking Dead (Video Games), The Walking Dead - All Media Types, Twd - Fandom, twdg
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deviates From Canon, Drama, End of the World, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Love, Post-Apocalypse, Survival, Tragedy, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 90
Words: 224,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGrayDingler/pseuds/JGrayDingler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coming of age story with zombies.</p>
<p>Orphaned by the horrors of a cruel and grotesque world and still mourning the loss of the people closest to her, a nine year old girl struggles to survive as what little stability provided by her adoptive parents is suddenly ripped away and she's forced to endure even greater dangers and torments, her only comfort being a kindly soul willing to suffer with her.<br/>A coming of age story with zombies.</p>
<p>Join Clementine as she struggles to not only survive against flesh starved zombies and sadistic captors, but to endure the relentless heart-crushing tragedies that so continually push her to a breaking point in this fan made follow up extrapolated from the actual follow up in ways inspired, conceptualized and sculpted by members of Telltale Game's message boards in an attempt to better realize The Walking Dead Game's beloved breakout character in this story of grief, guilt, pain, loss and love.</p>
<p>Cover artwork for Young and Young at Heart by Albaharu.<br/>The Walking Dead property of Robert Kirkman.<br/>The Walking Dead Game property of Telltale Games.<br/>Original characters and scenarios property of J. Gray Dingler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All That Remains

Clementine tightened her grip on the gun, desperately trying to stop her hands from shaking. She watched in terror as the distant figures silhouetted in the morning sun grew bigger with every passing second. They were both moving too fast to be walkers. They were living people, and they were hurrying towards her. The small girl reluctantly put her finger on the trigger, prepared to squeeze it just like Lee had taught her. She hated the idea of shooting someone, but tried to ready herself to do it again if she had to.

"Clementine?" called a woman's voice.

"Christa?" answered Clementine.

"Clementine!" shouted a man's voice.

"Omid!" exclaimed Clementine.

There was no doubt in her mind now; Clem started racing towards the pair as fast as her legs would carry her. The couple came into focus as they reached the bottom of the hill, causing her to run even harder. She probably ran faster than she had ever run in her entire life, as if the couple would cease to exist if she didn't reach them soon.

Clementine could see their faces now. Excited and scared at the same time, much like her. Just as she closed the distance, Clem dropped her gun and threw out her arms in an attempt to hug the duo. She stumbled and instead grabbed onto one of Christa's legs by mistake. It did little to change Clem's intentions, who started squeezing that leg for dear life as she looked up at the woman and her boyfriend.

"Clementine! Thank God!" exclaimed Christa. "Are you okay?"

"No," whimpered Clem as she clung to Christa's leg.

"What happened?" Omid knelt down next to the traumatized girl and placed his hand on her shoulder. "That guy on the radio. Did he…" Omid pulled back his hand and noticed it was covered in blood. "The hell? Why are you covered in—are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," she sobbed. "I'm just… I'm just…"

"It's okay Clem." Christa gently pried Clementine off and then knelt down to speak with her face to face. "You don't have to say any more. We understand."

"Yeah, it'd be pretty messed up if you were okay after what's happened actually," commented a sympathetic Omid. "So, feel free to not act okay all you want."

"Lee told me to meet you by the train, but—"

"It was swarmed," finished Christa. "We saw it too."

"It was like zombiepalooza had come to town on the rails," added Omid. "So we just started moving in the opposite direction."

"Figuring if you were still alive, you'd think to do the same," added Christa. "We had no idea where to start looking, so we just started walking and…"

"We're just really glad we found you," summarized Omid.

"Me too." Clementine looked around, searching for more familiar faces. "Where's Ben?" she asked, trying not to snivel. "And Kenny?" Christa and Omid briefly exchanged glances before turning back to the despondent nine-year-old.

"Clementine, they…" Christa struggled to find the words as she saw the horror grip the girl's face, realizing what had happened without Christa even needing to say it. "It's… it's just us Clem."

"Oh," said Clem in a resigned tone, as if she had expected this.

"And… I'm guessing it's just you?" Clementine nodded softly. "What about the man on the radio? Did he—"

"He's dead," announced Clem. "Just like Lee. And my parents. And…" she trailed off, choked with despair.

"I'm so sorry Clem." Christa gently placed her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"It's all gone," she whispered in a sad voice. "Everything." The pair gazed at the heart broken nine-year-old, unable to speak for a moment.

"Actually," spoke Omid, breaking the silence. "We did manage to salvage one thing before we left Savannah." Omid removed something from his back. "Purple with yellow and pink flowers looks better on you than it does on me." Clementine looked at her old backpack for a moment before taking it without a word. She unzipped the top and then removed something from her hoodie's pocket. The girl took out a handheld radio covered in flower stickers and carefully placed it inside the pack.

"And you should hold onto this." Christa handed the gun Clem dropped back to her. The small girl put her backpack on, then grasped the gun in her hand. "We should get moving. Hopefully we can find somewhere safe to rest before nightfall."

"But if you feel like you need to stop, just say so," assured Omid.

"I… I just want to go," pleaded Clem.

"All right. But if you need anything. Just—"

"I just want to go," she repeated. "I just want to go."

"Okay," said Christa, not wanting to push the matter any further. "Let's go." Clementine started walking, and then just kept walking for what seemed like hours. She could occasionally hear Omid and Christa talking, sometimes to her, but Clem just couldn't make out the words. Her mind felt clouded and she could only focus on moving forward, following Omid and Christa's lead. Occasionally they'd stop, telling her some kind of warning she couldn't entirely hear, then they'd start moving again. Clementine kept marching ahead as if she was in a trance, unaware of her surroundings.

Sometime before sunset the trio found an abandoned gas station to take refuge in. After clearing the inside, Omid motioned for Clem to join the couple inside. There were some canned goods and a few other items strewn across the floor. Christa was busy collecting anything useful while Omid worked on opening some of the cans. He offered the first to Clem, apologizing for the complete lack of eating utensils.

Clementine hadn't even noticed she was hungry until Omid had offered her that can. And even now, it seemed so unimportant to her that it was merely instinct that motivated her to eat instead of any actual desire to. She just scooped handfuls of food out of the can and into her mouth out of habit, barely tasting it. At some point, Christa had set a bottle of water next to Clem. Just like whatever she was eating, the girl instinctively drank the water, not deriving any actual comfort from doing so.

As she was eating, Christa and Omid would occasionally speak to Clementine. Asking how she was, if she needed anything, and what happened before they found her. But their questions just passed through the young girl, her mind in such a haze that she wasn't even processing what they were saying. Realizing the futility of speaking to Clem at this time, the couple divided their attention between watching her and surveying their surroundings.

Clementine could see them moving throughout the store, occasionally trading places so that at least one of them could sit with her, but she wasn't looking at them. To Clem, everything just seemed to blur together as one unremarkable image that never seemed to come into focus. Eventually, she managed to focus on Christa and Omid long enough to see they were prompting her to follow them now.

They led the girl to the bathrooms and explained to her that they had fixed one up to be her room for the night. Clem pushed open the door and noticed a crude bed sat in the middle of the room, built out of folded cardboard boxes and cut up foam drink holders. Christa's jacket served as a blanket and a couple of bags of likely stale caramel corn were set out like pillows. There were a few candles lit on opposite corners of the room as well as some containers of food and water stacked against the back wall.

"It's not exactly the roomiest of accommodations, but you can't beat the price," shrugged Omid, trying to force himself to smile.

"Omid and I are going to take turns keeping watch tonight," informed Christa. "You just get some sleep sweetie."

"Yeah, been a helluva couple of days," added Omid in a more concerned tone.

"And if you need anything, you can just ask us. You know that Clem." Clem nodded weakly at Christa, then shuffled into the room without a word. The door closed behind her, leaving Clementine somewhere dark and quiet. She instinctively sat down on the primitive bed, then just remained there for a moment, unsure what to do next.

After a few minutes of peace, Clem's senses started coming back to her. She suddenly realized her right-hand hurt. She had been holding her gun all day, not even bothering to set it down while eating. She placed it on the ground, then started rubbing her swollen knuckles.

The next thing Clem became aware of was a horrid smell. The blood-soaked hoodie she was wearing had festered in the midway sun. She threw her backpack off then pulled the rancid piece of fabric over her head as fast as she could. The smell nearly made Clem sick, but looking at the garment made her angry. Just seeing the lettering on the front was more than she could stand. Clementine threw the filthy thing aside as hard as she could, sending it flying into a corner. She never wanted to look at it again.

Clementine's attention turned to her backpack next. She slowly unzipped it and reached inside, retrieving the handheld radio her mother had given her. She flipped it over and pried open the back. Clem hastily yanked the batteries out of the device and threw them against the wall, landing them right on top of the discarded hoodie.

She couldn't quite bear to throw away the radio itself though. She had no intentions of ever using it again, but she still wanted to keep it. She put the battery compartment back on and set it down, noticing the stickers on it as she did so. Ben had found her those stickers. She had remembered how happy it made her to use those to decorate her radio, to mark it as distinctly hers. It had been only a few days and yet it already felt like so long ago.

Her eyes wandered back to her gun. It had been Lee's gun before. And it was the same one he used when he taught her how to shoot. And before that it had been Carley's gun. The same one she used to save Lee from the walker in the drugstore. It was also the same gun used to shoot both Carley and Lee. Remembering that, Clem reached for her pigtails and pulled on the hair scrunchies Lilly had given her. The girl looked at them for a moment, then tossed them in a pile with the gun and the radio.

She reached into her backpack again and pulled out of a piece of paper this time. It was her crude crayon drawing of Kenny, Katjaa and Duck. Clem could barely look at the picture of the boy and his family without crying. She immediately set it aside and grabbed the other drawing in her backpack. This drawing was of Lee, and this time Clementine couldn't look away. She tried stifling her own cries as her eyes began to tear up. The face of the man who had cared for her for so long was still fresh in Clem's mind, before and after she killed him.

Barely able to contain herself, Clementine set the drawing down, whimpering to herself in the dark. The small pile of items at her feet was all she had left of almost everyone she had ever known. The memories of them still fresh in her mind, as was the realization that they were all gone now. Clem finally couldn't stand it anymore and turned away.

She rolled over onto her makeshift bed, hoping she could just forget about the world for a short time. She arranged the bagged caramel corn to rest her head on and pulled Christa's jacket over her body. She was about to close her eyes, when she spotted her hat. She hadn't even realized it wasn't on her head anymore. It must have been knocked off when she removed the hoodie.

Clementine reached out for it, her hand trembling the entire way. She carefully picked it up off the ground and brought it to her face. It was just an ordinary baseball cap, but her father had given it to her the day before he left with her mother to go to Savannah, calling it an early birthday gift. And after losing it, Lee had brought it back to her, before she left Savannah, without him. The horrid memory of their demises still fresh in her mind, she found she couldn't hold it in anymore.

Clementine clutched her cap to her chest as tears gushed out of her eyes and onto the ground. She started bawling so hard and so loud for so long she could barely breathe. Her entire body seemed to quiver in agony as she sobbed uncontrollably. And anytime she felt like she was ready to stop, the image of someone else she had lost would flash into her mind, starting the entire miserable cycle all over, until Clementine was so exhausted she finally just passed out.


	2. Yet Another Day

Clementine opened her eyes. Much to her disappointment, she was in her room. Slowly she sat up and surveyed her surroundings, but all she saw was the same old bedroom she saw every morning since Christa and Omid had found this isolated cabin in the woods for them to stay in. She wasn't really expecting anything else, yet she did a quick inventory of the room's contents anyway.

There were a couple of books on the dresser that Clem had finished reading months ago. Next to them was an old instant camera that Omid had found her before moving out here. It only had a couple of shots left, but she couldn't think of anything she wanted to photograph. Past that was an old pad of paper nearly full of half finished leaf rubbings and sloppy doodles Clem had made to pass the time. As she ran out of paper she had lost interest in it and as such the last few pages were simply blank. Other than a change of clothes in the dresser and her backpack in the corner, the room was bare.

Seeing nothing of interest, Clementine rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. She pulled her pillow over her eyes to block out the sunlight coming in through the windows, but even with her eyes closed it was futile. Knowing she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, Clem took a deep breath and crawled out of bed.

She put her shoes on, then picked up her hair ties from the dresser. As she pulled her curly hair back into pigtails, Clem realized it was getting a little long and she should probably cut it, but figured there was no rush since she never went anywhere anymore. Her hair tied off, Clem placed her hat on her head and headed downstairs. As she crossed through the living room, she could hear Christa and Omid in the kitchen.

"What do you think?" asked Omid in his typical enthusiastic manner.

"Omid, you can't be serious," answered a bemused Christa.

"I am," he insisted.

"We are not doing that," she asserted.

"Why not?"

"Because; it's ridiculous." The couple's attention turned to Clementine as she silently sat down at the table.

"Look who's finally up," commented Omid.

"Sleep well?" Clem didn't respond to Christa's question. "Bad dream again?" Clementine just couldn't find the energy to answer Christa's concerns.

"I'm sorry Clem," said Omid as he set a plate in front of her. "Also, sorry we still don't have anything better on the menu." Clementine looked down at her breakfast. It was a couple of small pieces of dried fish leftover from yesterday, a mushroom foraged from the forest and a cup of water. The same thing she had been eating for weeks now.

As she chewed on the gristly piece of cold fish, she found it hard not to think about how much better the canned goods they used to have were. And taking a bite out of the mushroom just reminded her how they used to be able to find berries and nuts in the forest before the winter set in.

"I was thinking we could work a little more on your knot tying today," suggested Christa. "If you felt up to it." Since settling in the cabin, Clementine had found herself being tutored in a variety of odd things ranging from purifying water to identifying edible plants. Knots were just the latest topic in this series of ongoing lessons from Christa. Clementine didn't like these lessons, but there was so little for her to do she never felt the urge to object either.

"Okay." Clem shrugged then turned back to her plate, only to grimace at what she saw. "What were you talking about just now?" she asked, desperately looking for anything to take her mind off food.

"Oh, nothing, just that the egomaniac here wants to name our baby after himself," surmised Christa.

"Come on, what's wrong with Omid?" he asked in a mostly sincere tone.

"We're not calling our baby Omid. One of you is enough," she retorted.

"Omid the Second," suggested Omid.

"No."

"Omid Junior."

"No."

Clementine looked at Christa's belly and still found it hard to believe how big it had gotten. She had talked with Christa and Omid about their baby from time to time over the winter, being one of the only topics of interest in this home. But it always seemed like something distant until recently, and only now Clem was starting to think of what it was going to be like to have someone new in their home.

Looking at Christa and Omid, Clem began to wonder what their son would look like. Examining the couple she had a hard time picturing someone with Omid's goatee pulling their hair up into a bun like Christa does. She also wondered if he would be tall like Christa, or short like Omid, and what color his skin would be. Clementine always thought she looked more like her mother than her father, so did that mean their son would have darker skin like Christa? Would it be a son at all?

"What if it's a girl?" wondered Clem out loud.

"If it's a girl we'll name her Christa," proposed Omid.

"I'm Christa. I don't want to call her Christa. That's just confusing."

"We'll give her a nickname," reasoned Omid. "Chrissy, Chris, CJ."

"CJ?"

"Christa Junior," smirked Omid. "Admit it, it's got a nice ring to it."

"You're not taking this seriously," realized Christa.

"Hey, I take everything seriously," assured Omid. "Especially little Omid's future."

"Well then, as long as we're on the topic of the future, I think we should make a supply run to the nearest town before the baby arrives."

"I thought you wanted to go after?" reminded Omid. "I mean, that's a lot of walking for someone as pregnant as you."

"We've used up most of what we brought out here just getting through the winter, and we're going to need more still after the baby. So if we don't do it now, we'd either have to take the baby with us after it's born, or one of us would have to stay here with it. I'd rather not split us up like that, and it'd be even riskier to take a baby along on something like this."

"I see your point, but are you sure you're up for this?" asked a concerned Omid. "Nearest town is probably at least a couple of days from here."

"That's why I want to get a start on it soon, while we've still got some time. We should just pack as much food and water as we can, and next warm day all three of us head north until we find somewhere that hasn't been looted too badly. We bring back as much as we can carry, and hopefully that'll be enough to hold us over until spring."

"Why north?" asked Clementine.

"The places we checked before we came out here were already pretty bare, so I figure it wouldn't do much good to go back the way we came. Omid said he spotted a big bridge about a day's walk north of here once," explained Christa. "It's got to go somewhere."

"Unless it's one of the bridges to nowhere some congressmen insisted on building," suggested Omid.

"It's that or just pick a direction," reminded Christa.

"All right. North works for me," shrugged Omid. "But if we need to be commuting to live out here, why not just pack up and set up shop in whatever town we find instead? Between becoming intimate with the term cabin fever, us having a baby on the way, and my active social life, it seems like we should just get out of the countryside and back towards what's left of civilization."

"No," dictated Christa. "What we have now works. There's almost no walkers this far out from the cities and we're getting enough from the stream and the forest to keep alive. We get the right tools and some seeds on this trip and we could grow our own food right here. We scavenge some other essentials and whatever we can find in the woods over the next season and we'll be ready for the next winter. Before long we'll be both safe and living well."

"Yeah, if you think 'before long' means more than a year," quipped Omid.

"I'm just saying, we're doing pretty well all things considered," clarified Christa. "We bring back a few key items and we'll do that much better. We act smart and keep at it and eventually we'll have everything we need out here."

"Unless we actually need other people at some point," commented Omid in a less than affable tone.

"We don't need anyone else," insisted Christa. "The three of us can handle things as long as we're careful. Anyone else would just be inviting trouble."

"Oh really? Just the three of us?" Omid stood up and moved to Christa. "Did you hear that Omid Junior?" he asked Christa's stomach. "Your mom's got it out for you."

"You know what I meant," snapped Christa.

"You should probably make a run for it after you're born," continued Omid. "But in your case you might have to make a crawl for it instead."

"Shut up."

"Just head right out the birth canal and don't look back."

"Omid!"

"What?" Omid feigned innocence as Christa stood up. "I'm just trying to give the kid a heads up on what to expect."

"You always do this," accused Christa. "Anytime you start losing an argument, you turn everything into a joke to avoid the issue."

"Oh, I'm losing the argument?" asked an indignant Omid. "Because anytime I want to talk about even the remote possibility of ever trying to make contact with anyone left in the human race, you immediately come back with how everyone who's not us is a sadist rapist cannibal who tips poorly."

"It doesn't have to be everyone as long as there's some people still out there who are like that," argued Christa.

"So it's more of a numbers game then? What's the acceptable lunatic to non-lunatic ratio for you?" retorted Omid. "Does everyone but one person have to be sane or is fifty-fifty okay?"

"Far as I'm concerned, as long as things stay the way they are, just one is too many to risk it."

"Well, maybe we shouldn't trust Clementine even. Hell, she could be an axe murderer who's just really good at hiding it or something. You never know."

"Clementine is why we should avoid other people! Or did you forget what happened with the man on the radio?"

"No, I'm just not willing to throw everyone on Earth under the bus because of one crazy asshole."

"That one crazy asshole nearly got us all killed because of what he did, so forgive me if I'm not eager to look for others just because you're lonely," accused Christa. "We got lucky last time."

"Lucky? Clem being kidnapped was lucky?"

"We were lucky that's all he did to Clementine. Bad as it was, there are people who would do far worse to someone like her."

"Well that's a pleasant thought," remarked a sarcastic Omid. "Hey Clementine, did you hear—" Omid stopped mid-sentence when he looked over to see Clementine had covered her ears with her hands in a desperate attempt to not hear what they were saying. Christa saw it too and immediately moved to the girl's side in response. Very gently she placed her hand on Clem's and slowly guided it away from her ear.

"It's okay. It's okay," repeated an apologetic Christa. "We're not fighting anymore."

"Yeah, yelling match's over," added an equally penitent Omid as he moved beside Clem. "And there's no encore. So, just relax." Clem moved her hands away from her head, but didn't say anything.

"We're so sorry Clem."

"What can we do to make it up to you?" Clementine just sat there; she didn't really have an answer to that question. Omid and Christa briefly exchanged glances, then Christa turned back to Clem.

"If you can think of anything, you just tell us. Okay sweetie?" Christa gently grasped Clementine's hand.

"In the meantime, I think I'll try to catch us lunch," suggested Omid. "Hopefully before dinner this time."

"The rod and cooler are in the shed, rifle's in our room," reminded Christa before turning back to Clementine. "And we can just skip our lesson for today." Clem stood up and shuffled towards the exit. "Wait." Clem turned to Christa. "How bout today you go with Omid?" she suggested. "Try your hand at fishing?"

"I thought you didn't want me going into the woods?" reminded Clementine.

"Well like I was saying, we're going to have to make a trip soon. So this can be like practice. And, for better or worse, you'll be with Omid," joked Christa.

"It'll be better. I guarantee it." Clementine looked up at Omid, who smiled at her. She then looked back at Christa, who nodded softly at her. Leaving the cabin for a while did seem appealing. Clem thought to herself for a moment, then gave them her answer.

"Okay," she said while almost managing a smile.


	3. The Great Outdoors

"Now you're sure you have everything?" asked Christa.

"Yes," answered Clementine as she moved next to Omid.

"You have your gun right?"

"Yeah, it's in my backpack."

"You sure you don't want to keep a gun here?" asked Omid.

"I'll be fine. I want to be sure both of you can protect yourselves while you're out there," explained Christa. "Besides, Clementine might have to bail you out."

"Hey, I'm every bit as capable as a nine year old," said Omid with a smirk. "Maybe a little more even."

"Just be careful."

"Come on, you're acting like I don't do this every day."

"Not with Clementine you don't," said Christa.

"I'll be careful," promised Clementine.

"Yeah, come on Christa. We'll be fine," assured Omid. "You stop worrying Clem so much, and she might actually have a little fun on this trip."

Christa looked at the pair and smiled. "All right, you two take care of each other."

"We will." Clementine nodded at Christa, then started following Omid into the forest. As the pair continued into the woods, Clementine briefly looked back and saw Christa waving goodbye to her just before disappearing from view. Clem looked up at Omid as they trekked forward.

"We've got quite the walk ahead of us, so I'd recommend taking advantage of one of the few perks of living in the woods and enjoy the view." Clem heeded Omid's advice and took in her surroundings. It was a little cloudy and kind of cool out, but mostly a pleasant day. The trees were bare, creating a sprawling mess of branches that obscured the sunrise. The dirt was hard from the cold, dotted with small traces of plant life that had survived the winter. The forest was also dead quiet. Clementine couldn't hear any insects or birds in the distance, and even the wind seemed remarkably restrained today. All in all, not a particularly uplifting sight for the troubled young girl.

"Sorry again about the fight," said Omid. "I guess being cooped up all this time is getting to us. But still, we shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," shrugged Clementine.

"Oh no, totally not okay," insisted Omid. "You file away that incident for later use. Consider it your own personal get out of jail free card next time Christa or yours truly is going on about something you don't like."

"Um, okay."

"In fact, you can even yell at me if you want," suggested Omid in a playful manner.

"That's okay."

"You sure? It usually makes Christa feel better when she's upset."

"I don't want any more yelling."

"Yeah, I guess Christa and I did enough of that to last you for a while," realized Omid. "You know, Christa was serious when she said if you can think of anything you need, just name it."

"I know. I just can't think of anything."

"Really, nothing?"

"Nothing you could give me." Omid couldn't help but notice the dejected tone of Clem's voice as she told him that. He looked down at the girl and noted the grim expression on her face.

"Well, maybe you should tell us things you don't think we can get you then," suggested Omid.

"Why?" asked Clem.

"Because, we might surprise you. We are taking a trip to pick up some things soon. You never know what might turn up."

"I don't know."

"Come on, just pick something," urged Omid. "How about a pony? You want a pony?"

"No."

"How about a whole elephant?"

"No."

"What about a twelve-foot ladder?"

"Why would I want a ladder?"

"So you can get on top of the elephant I'm getting you." Clementine chuckled at that comment. "Was that a laugh I just heard?"

"No," Clementine hastily denied.

"You sure about that?" asked a smug Omid.

"Well, maybe a little," admitted Clem.

"All right, you're trying to play it cool. I understand. Christa does the same thing," noted an amused Omid. "All though I don't think that'll last much longer. Once the baby is here she's gonna go all Lifetime original movie on us and start blubbering about how beautiful Omid Jr is every time she looks at him."

"You really think so?"

"I hope so, because that's totally what I plan on doing when the big days arrives," confessed Omid. "If we both end up as crying messes, you might have to help out with little Omid, be like a big sister to him when we're too busy crying in joy."

"What could I do?" wondered Clementine.

"Lots of things. As Christa keeps reminding me, babies need constant attention. You gotta talk to them, and read to them, and play with them. You think you'd want to help us with any of that?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Clementine hadn't given much thought to what would happen after the baby was born. She never even considered what she would do with the baby, but now that Omid was suggesting it, Clem was starting to wonder. She never had a brother or sister of her own, but she always wanted one. Being a big sister might be nice, or fun even.

If nothing else, it gave Clementine something to consider on the long and otherwise quiet walk through the forest. Eventually the pair did arrive at the stream Christa mentioned. Clem found it fairly underwhelming. In fact, it was so small, she was surprised Omid could fish in it at all.

"Well here it is, my little home away from home," announced Omid as he set his backpack on the ground.

"So, what happens now?" asked Clementine.

"Well, first I throw out my line." Clem watched as Omid cast, sending his hook and floater into the stream. They drifted with the current for a bit before running out of slack and settling in a spot just downstream of where they landed.

"Now what?" asked Clem.

"And now, we wait." Clementine watched the floater bob along in the water for a while before she let out a long sigh. "Yeah, usually not a lot happens after this."

"I guess I can get the water." Clementine went to collect one of the empty plastic jugs Omid had stored in his backpack.

"I'll give you a hand," offered Omid.

"Don't you have to wait for the fish?"

"One of the nice things about fishing." Omid planted the rod in an already dug hole and piled a few rocks against the bottom of it to weigh it down. "You don't actually have to be there in person for most of it." Omid grabbed the other jug and the pair treaded towards the edge of the stream.

"You sure it's okay to just leave it there?" asked Clem.

"It's fine, I do this all the time," assured Omid. "As long as I stay close most of the fish barely get anywhere by the time I hear them pulling on the line." The pair dipped the jugs in the stream until they were full. Clem had trouble lifting the filled container, needing both hands to pull it out of the water.

"Just imagine carrying those every day," suggested Omid. "Literal pain in the back. All though, I will admit, it is good cardio."

"I hate being so little," said Clementine.

"Oh come on, being little ain't so bad. Seem to remember you being little has come in handy on more than one occasion."

"Maybe before we came out here. There's no doors or windows for me to climb through in the woods."

"No but… you're closer to the ground than me," realized Omid. "Bet you're better at hunting for mushrooms and dead bugs than I am."

"Dead bugs?"

"I use them for bait. And occasional improv performance art, but let's just keep that between you and me."

"Um… okay."

"So, what do you say? Wanna hunt for bugs?"

"I think I stepped on a bug on the way here."

"Really? Well check your shoe, maybe it's still there." Clem sat down and looked at the bottom of her feet. What appeared to be a beetle of some kind was stuck to the sole of one of her shoes.

"See what I mean, you're already outpacing me and we haven't even started yet." Omid carefully peeled the dead insect off Clem's shoe.

"I didn't find it though. I just stepped on it."

"Maybe you're a natural bug hunter," theorized Omid as he pulled his hook out of the water.

"I just got lucky."

"Maybe you're good luck." Clem sighed loudly as Omid baited the hook and tossed it back into the water. He returned to the shore where Clem was sitting silently. "Probably could use some more if you feel like looking for them." Clem didn't respond. "Something on your mind?" Omid could very easily tell something was bothering Clementine just from the look on her face. It was a look she seemed to wear all too often. "You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm right here, whenever you need me." Omid left Clem to be alone with her thoughts and went to pack up the jugged water they had collected.

"It wasn't a bad dream."

Omid turned to Clementine. "What?"

"I didn't have a bad dream last night. It was a good dream."

"Really?" asked a curious Omid. "What about?"

"I was in my backyard, and my dad was pushing me on the swing. It's a really nice day and he kept pushing me higher and higher. Then I hear my mom calling my name, so I jump off the swing and run into the house. She's made all my favorite foods for lunch, but before I can start eating my mom says I need to wait for company. And before I can ask her who's coming, I see him coming down the stairs."

"Who?" asked Omid.

"Lee." Clem's eyes lit up upon saying that name. "I ask him what he's doing here, and he says he's come over to help me with my homework. I run over to hug him…" Omid watched as whatever little joy Clementine had left seemed to drain right out of her. "And then I woke up."

"I'm sorry Clementine."

"I keep having this dream, and I think the same thing every time I wake up."

"What's that?"

"That I wish I hadn't."

"Clem…"

"I know I should be happy I'm alive, but I'm just not," she confessed. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, there's no reason to be sorry." Omid leaned in closer to Clem. "You've been through a lot, and it's not exactly like we're living in luxury at the moment either. You'd have to be crazy to be happy all the time with things the way they are."

"You're happy all the time."

"That's because I am crazy. Ask Christa." Clem snickered a little in response. "And, I know it may not seem like it, but there's times where this stuff gets to me as well."

"Like this morning?"

"Yeah. Again, sorry about that."

"It's okay. You're still a lot more happy than me."

"Well I've had a lot more practice at it than you. Despite what Christa might tell you, it takes an awful lot of work for me to keep being me. Just one of the many crosses I have to bear," lamented Omid in a sarcastic tone. "But, being as crafty as I am, I've figured out some tricks that make it easier."

"Like what?"

"Right now I find it helps to think about what I'm gonna do when things get better."

"What if they don't get better? What if they get worse?"

"Things can always get worse, so no need to think about that. Least, not as long as we have Christa around to worry about it for us." Clem smirked in response. "Things get better though, you'll regret not having a plan because you'll miss out on a chance to do all the stuff you really like."

"Like what?" asked Clem. "What should I plan for?"

"Well, just for starters, you should be thinking about what you would like to get out of this upcoming trip Christa's talking about. I already got my plan all worked out. First town with a mall, I'm grabbing a shopping cart and loading it up with a new wardrobe, a boom box, my personal picks for the best of the seventies, enough batteries to last us until next year, a few bottles of fine wine for the special occasions, and some film for that camera I found you. I'm gonna want a lot of baby pictures. Oh, and a Cuisinart."

"What's a Cuisinart?" asked Clem.

"No idea," answered Omid.

"Then why do you want it?"

"To find out what it does. Christa would never let me get one back before just because I didn't know what it did. And we didn't need it. And I'd probably break it. But, we see one now, I'm grabbing it. That's a mystery I'm finally putting to rest."

"You think Christa would let you do that?"

"Hey, what's this 'let me' talk? She doesn't control me." Clem just stared at Omid in response. "Well, not control per se, but—hey, what are you worrying about me for? You should be figuring out what you're going to get. Think about it, whole toy stores out there, probably untouched even, just waiting for you."

Clementine hadn't thought about toys in a long time, but she suddenly remembered a contest she heard about from before where whoever won would get ten minutes to grab whatever they wanted from a toy store. She had badly wanted to win that contest, and it dawned on her that she finally might if they found a toy store when they went out looking for supplies.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Omid had noticed the smile slowly forming on Clementine's face. "Food and bullets may be scarce lately, but there's probably no shortage of toys and games in the world right now. It's just a matter of finding them."

Clem smiled at Omid. "You're going to make a really good dad."

"You think so?" Omid was sincere in his question, possibly even a little surprised by what Clem said. But only for a moment, then a familiar smirk emerged on the wily Persian's face. "Any chance I can get you to repeat that in front of Christa?"

"Maybe," answered the sly girl.

"But only with some incentive right?" realized Omid. "All right. I am gonna be a father soon, bribing kids to do what I want is something I should work at. You say what you said just now in front of Christa and when we make this run into town, I'll grab some of the stuff you want. Free you up to carry a little more."

"Some new books would be really nice," suggested Clem.

"Sure you don't want to borrow that guide to edible plants Christa keeps around?" suggested Omid. "Or maybe that pregnancy for dummies book she keeps making me reread?"

"No."

"Okay, new books it is. What's next?"

"Some crayons, or markers?"

"Why or? Take both. Now what else?"

"Well… no, it's stupid."

"You're talking to the guy who wants a Cuisinart just to find out what the hell it is. Come on. Spill it."

"Well, I really would like a new dress."

"I didn't want to say anything, but the one you've got on now, totally out of season," commented Omid.

"It's dirty and has holes in it," added Clem. "Also it doesn't fit like it used to."

"Well, you are a growing girl. And if you don't mind me saying, it is a little garish to wear the same thing every day. You should get a couple of dresses."

"You think Christa would be okay with that?"

"It's a few pieces of clothing. Someone's who going to make a really good dad like me should have no problem talking her into it. Right?" Omid winked at Clem.

"Oh." Clem realized what Omid was hinting at. "Um, yeah. You totally could."

"Sounds like we a have a deal," smiled Omid. "Just one little thing we have to do to make it official."

"What's that?"

"We gotta hug over it," insisted Omid in a playful voice. "A handshake just won't cut it for something like this." Clementine eagerly wrapped her arms around Omid, tenderly squeezing him as he patted her gently on the back.

"Sucker," quipped Omid. "I would have gotten you that stuff anyway."

"I was already going to tell Christa you'll make a great dad," retorted Clem.

"Well I guess we're both just a couple of suckers then." A splashing sound caught the pair's attention. They looked off into the distance and saw a walker clumsily wading towards them from upstream.

"I guess we can add moods to the list of things these guys kill," quipped Omid.

"Where did he come from?" wondered Clem.

"Every now and then I see one chasing the noises the stream makes. And as tempting as it is to watch them try and catch it, I'd rather they not fall in and muck up our drinking water or scare off all the fish." Omid stood up and removed a hatchet from his backpack. "Wait here Clem, I'm gonna go greet our guest." Omid headed towards the still distant shuffling corpse.

"Yo, dead head, over here." Clem watched as it moved out of the stream and shambled towards Omid. "Hey neighbor, mind lending me a bit of your scalp?" Omid brought the hatchet down into the walker's forehead with a single forceful swing. It collapsed onto the ground without another sound. It was then Clem heard an odd clicking sound. She turned her head and noticed the reel on Omid's fishing rod was moving. It clicked a few more times, then started spinning very quickly.

"Omid! Look!" Clem pointed to the rod.

"Oh, shit. Grab it Clem!" Clementine ran over to the fishing rod and grabbed the still spinning reel. Whatever hooked the line was very strong, but Clem held onto the reel with all the strength she could summon.

"Just hang on to it," instructed Omid as he sat down behind Clem. He placed his hand on Clem's and together the two started reeling in their catch. The pair only managed to bring in the line a little bit at a time, but surely they pulled their fighting finned foe closer with every breath.

"Wow," awed Clementine as she caught a brief glimpse of their catch splashing out of the water. She and Omid pulled with all their might and with a final push of effort, saw the fruit of their efforts. Dangling from the end of their line was a still wriggling smallmouth bass. Clementine was surprised by its size, being nearly as long as one of her arms, if not longer.

"Damn, I always wind up with pint-sized trouts," chuckled Omid. "Your first catch and you're already out doing me as a fisherman as well." Omid unhooked the fish and threw it into the small cooler he brought with him.

"My catch?" asked Clementine. "But I didn't—"

"You were the one watching it. You grabbed it first. And you provided the bait too," reminded Omid. "I think that makes it more yours than mine."

"But, I couldn't have pulled it in without your help."

"Well, there might be a little asterisk by it with my name on it, but otherwise, I'm totally telling Christa you caught us dinner tonight." Omid smiled at Clementine. "Now if we just had some more bait, we might actually have seconds for a change."

"Maybe I can find some," she suggested.

"Feel free to scrounge around, but I've spent more time around here looking for dead bugs than I care to admit and I usually come out empty handed," explained Omid. "At this point I'm starting to think they avoiding dying around here just to spite me."

"What about in the woods?"

"Tempting as that is, I can't go too far from the stream. Probably would have lost that catch a minute ago if you hadn't of grabbed it. And nice as it is, we could always use more."

"Then I'll go. I could look for more mushrooms too. Maybe even find some berries or nuts, like we used to have."

"I don't know…"

"Please," begged Clementine in her sweetest voice.

"Christa wouldn't like this." Clem kept staring at Omid, forcing him to look into her anxious wide eyes. "But… she's not here right now. So, just this once, okay." Clem adjusted her backpack and then immediately started heading to the other side of the stream.

"Hey, hey, hold up," said Omid. "Few ground rules we need to go over. First thing, do you even know what direction you're heading in?"

"Umm…"

"You're pointing north right now. To get back you'll have to go south. You remembered what I told you right?"

"Um, if it's morning, the sun is east, and if it's after noon, it's west," recited Clem. "East should be on the right, west on the left, north would be straight ahead, so if I turn around, I'd go south."

"Good. Now, if you see anyone, dead or alive, you come right back. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"And don't be too long, especially if you find something we can use for bait."

"I won't."

"And you got your gun right?"

Clem took off her backpack and checked inside. "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay, you be careful." Clementine nodded at Omid, then moved across the stream, hopping across a few of the larger rocks to avoid getting wet. She headed out of the clearing and into the forest.


	4. Danger and the Deep Woods

Clementine kept moving forward, carefully observing her surroundings as she did so. The woods here weren't any different from the ones she walked through earlier, yet Clem couldn't help but feel a little excited. This was the furthest she had been away from her new home since settling here months ago. She had spent so much of the winter cooped up in the cabin she had almost forgotten the rest of the world was still out there.

Clementine continued further into the forest, stopping to check the various flora. She was really hoping to find something other than mushrooms to eat. She had never liked them, and eating them almost every day for the last month had just made her further hate them. Clem checked the sky again to make sure she was still moving north. It was getting cloudier, but she could still see the sun.

Continuing deeper into the woods, Clem heard a distinct chirping sound off in the distance. It was a cricket, and possibly future bait as well. She started moving towards the source of the chirping as quickly as she could. As she neared the source, the chirping suddenly stopped, as if her prey had detected her presence. Clem held perfectly still for a moment, and another chirp sounded. Clem very carefully tiptoed towards a fallen log. The chirping stopped again, but Clem continued her approach.

Sitting on the log was a particularly fat insect. Clem slowly reached out her hand, ready to catch it. Just as she grabbed for the bug, it hopped away. Clem scrambled over the log and tried again to snatch the cricket, but no luck. It kept hopping for dear life as Clem tried to chase after it. She lunged at it again and managed to grasp the fat cricket before it could hop away once more. Clem carefully opened her hand to confirm her catch, and found a somewhat smooshed bug resting in her palm.

"Eww." Clementine peeled what she could off her hand and put it in her backpack. Then she wiped her hand on the grass, trying to get off some of the sticky bug blood. Normally she didn't really think much about bugs, but something about the way it was hopping away from her made Clem feel a tiny bit guilty about killing it. It really didn't want to be caught. But mostly she felt proud of having something to bring back, even if it was just a bug.

Clementine started to zip up her backpack when she heard a nearby rustling sound. She quickly darted back to the fallen tree for cover and watched closely as the rustling grew louder. Clementine pulled her gun out of her backpack, her heart racing as whatever was coming grew louder. She watched in terror as something stumbled out from the brush.

It was a big, old, red, dog. Clem's fear quickly turned to wonderment. She hadn't seen a dog since before everything changed. People didn't really keep pets anymore, or if they did, she never got to meet any of them. It made Clem stop and wonder about what else was still out there, until she noticed the dog was moving straight towards her. Clem tried to hide but the dog had already picked up her scent. It came over the downed tree with some difficulty and looked right at Clementine.

"Umm, good boy." The dog seemed a lot older close-up, and a lot bigger too. Clem noticed it was missing one of its eyes and half of its tail had been cut off. Both looked to be old injuries. The dog also looked very hungry. "I'm sorry. I don't have anything to eat." Clementine couldn't help but feel sorry for the dog as it kept staring at her with its one remaining eye. "You poor thing." She slowly offered her free hand to the dog, allowing him to sniff it. "I wish there was something I could do for—"

The dog snapped at Clementine, biting her arm. Clem pulled her arm free of the dog's jaws, badly cutting herself as she did so. She recoiled in horror at the sight of the bloody gash running across half the length of her arm. She tried to cradle the painful injury with her other hand, but the gun she was holding made that impossible.

The dog however just continued to stare at Clem, as if nothing had happened. Clementine started backing away from the animal, which kept moving towards her.

"Go away." The dog paid no attention to Clem's command. "Shoo! Leave me alone!" The dog started growling in response to the girl raising her voice. "Stop!" The dog didn't stop. It kept inching closer to Clementine with every step she took backwards, growling louder and louder. "Go away! Just…" The dog let out a savage bark and Clem pulled the trigger.

It took Clementine a moment to piece together what just transpired. She didn't even remember aiming her gun at the dog. It just seemed to happen when she heard it bark at her. She looked down at the now motionless corpse of the canine. The shot was clean in its head, and its blood was slowly spilling onto the grass. Despite what it just did, Clem found it hard to look at the dead animal.

As the shock of the attack started to fade, Clementine suddenly felt the searing pain in her arm. Looking at it again, she saw blood was seeping into her whole sleeve now. Clem tossed her gun into her backpack and picked it up with her one good arm. She gazed up at the sky to find her way back, but it was so overcast now she couldn't see the sun clearly.

A sense of panic started to sweep over Clementine. She looked back at the fallen tree and figured since she had to jump over it earlier to catch the cricket, that was probably north. Clem turned and started running in the direction she hoped would lead her back to the stream. She found it hard to keep up a good pace as every step seemed to further irritate her injury. Clem looked around for any sign she was heading the right way, but all she saw were trees in every direction. She tried to keep running, but the pain in her arm became unbearable.

Finally she couldn't run any further, slowing to a stop near a tree she could lean on while gasping for air. Clem's gaze briefly drifted back to her arm, but the sight of blood dripping down her hand was enough to make her look away. Clem tried to think of what she should do next, but nothing came to mind. It dawned on Clem she might die here, lost in this forest. The thought of this terrified Clementine, and yet she couldn't even muster the strength to remain standing.

She slid down the trunk of the tree and plopped onto the ground, unsure if she even wanted to stand up again. Her gaze drifted skyward, just to see it was even cloudier than it was a few minutes ago. Clementine sighed and leaned her head against the tree. As she turned her head, trying to get slightly more comfortable, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She saw the silhouette of someone standing far off in the distance. It could be Omid, but she couldn't tell from this far away. She hesitated to call to this person, but another glimpse at her arm made her realize how dire her situation was.

"Omid!" The person spun around to face Clementine, aiming a rifle in her direction. Clem froze in place, petrified at this sight. Again, she reached for her gun, but the call of a familiar voice stopped her.

"Clementine!" Clem watched as the figure lowered the rifle. It had to be Omid. She started racing towards him as fast as her legs would carry her, trying to ignore the horrid pain in her arm. She could see Omid's face now, his normally friendly smile replaced with a look of overwhelming concern.

"I heard a shot. What happened?" Omid noticed Clementine's arm as he closed the distance between them. "Oh shit."

"A dog bit me."

"A dog?"

"Yeah, it was in the woods, and—"

"Better it than a walker, but…" Omid carefully examined Clem's arm. "Oh shit, he got you good. Hang on." Omid tore off the bloody sleeve on Clem's undershirt. He then reached for the other sleeve and started tearing it just below Clem's shoulder. "Sorry to wreck your trademark outfit."

"It's already wrecked." Clementine watched as Omid used the other sleeve to fashion a crude bandage. He tied it tightly around the open wound, causing Clem to wince as he did so.

"Okay. That'll have to do for the trip back. But you're gonna need stitches." Omid led Clementine back to the stream, which wasn't far. He quickly removed the water jugs from his backpack and replaced them with the cooler with the fish in it.

"You're not bringing the water?

"Too heavy, and it's not bleeding." Omid put his backpack on. "I'll come back for it and the rod later. After I get you home."

"Then why are you bringing the cooler?" asked Clementine.

"Because I want you to have something good to eat when we get back," explained Omid as he approached Clem. "You'll heal better on a full stomach." Omid carefully scooped Clementine off the ground and into his arms.

"I can still walk," insisted a shaken Clementine.

"I don't want you to make your arm any worse by running through the forest," insisted Omid. "Hold onto me with your good arm. And if you need to stop for anything, you just say so."

"Okay." Clem grasped Omid as tightly as she could.

"Christa's gonna give me hell for this."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm gonna let her." Omid carried Clementine back towards the cabin, carefully keeping her close to him while trying to keep up a hurried pace. Clem did her best to stay quiet despite the pain. With the bandage, her arm felt like it was throbbing now, as if the blood was trying to force itself out. She felt like crying out but she didn't. She knew there was nothing Omid could do until they were back at the cabin, so she just closed her eyes and tried to think of anything to distract herself from the excruciating pain, but nothing came to mind.

The trip back probably took about half an hour but for Clem it felt like an eternity. She was so relieved when an out of breath Omid told her that they were almost there. Clem opened her eyes and through all the trees she could just barely see the cabin. She never thought she be so happy to be back in that dull old cabin. Even just seeing it seemed to ease the pain in her arm a little. Right as they reached the edge of the clearing, Omid came to a sudden stop.

"Omid?" said Clem. "Why'd you—" Omid made a shushing noise in response. Very carefully he set Clem down, then knelt down himself.

"What's going on?" whispered Clem.

"I think I see a couple of people," whispered Omid as he took his rifle in hand. "By the front door." Clem looked closely. It was hard to tell, but there did seem to be two figures standing in front of the cabin.

"Who are they?"

"Let's find out." Omid braced the rifle against his shoulder and looked through the scope. "Well the one on the right is Christa. She's talking to someone, and she doesn't look too happy about it, although, that's fairly normal for her."

"Who's the other person?" asked Clementine.

"A man in a flannel shirt with dark hair. I'd tell you more, but he's got his back turned, so that's all I got." Clem edged closer to get a better view, but she still couldn't see much other than what was apparently two people way off in the distance. "This guy's got a gun tucked in his waistband," reported Omid. "Although, that's fairly normal these days."

"What's someone doing out here?" asked Clem. "How would they even find this place?"

"Maybe it's the cabin's original owner?" suggested Omid. "Or maybe he just stumbled upon it. I mean, that's basically what we did. We just happened to spot it way off in the distance from the freeway. Who's to say he didn't—" Omid suddenly tensed up. He tightened his grip on the rifle, as if he was aiming at something now.

"What's going on?" whispered Clem.

"I recognize that look. She's given it to me more times than I care to remember," informed a concerned Omid. "Whoever this is, Christa's losing her patience for him. It looks like she's telling him to leave, but he's not showing any signs of leaving." Clem watched as Omid steadied the rifle.

"All right Clem, listen carefully. Here's what we're going to do," instructed Omid in a calm voice. "First—" The back of Omid's head erupted, spewing blood and gore onto everything behind him. Clementine watched in utter shock as he collapsed backwards onto the dirt, a confused expression frozen on his now lifeless face and a neatly made bullet hole on his forehead.


	5. Meeting New People

Clementine wanted to turn away, yet couldn't, as if something was compelling her to stare at Omid's body. She just kept watching him, hoping against everything she knew he'd get up again, and not as a walker. Clementine then noticed the entire front of her dress had been covered in blood. She started hastily trying to wipe it off but only succeeded in smearing it across her clothes and onto her hands.

A shout in the distance distracted Clem from the horrid sight in front of her. Looking back at the cabin, she could see three figures now, and they were all heading right in her direction. Clementine hastily retreated back into the forest. She rushed towards one of the bigger trees and ducked behind it, hoping that no one saw her. She struggled to remain quiet, finding it hard not to take deep breaths while her heart was pounding against the side of her chest. Gradually she managed to calm herself just enough to hear something other than her own breathing.

It was eerily quiet, but Clem didn't dare leave her hiding spot. Instead she turned her head, scanning as much of her surroundings as she could without moving. She didn't see anyone around, she didn't hear anything coming, but she knew there had to be people out there. Very slowly she slid her backpack off, wincing as she took off the left strap. In her shock she had briefly forgotten the wound on her arm. Clementine carefully removed her gun, then put her backpack on.

All though it pained her to do so, she grasped the gun with both hands, then she waited. Clem kept expecting to hear someone any moment, yet all she heard was silence. Were they trying to sneak up on her? Were they even coming? Who were these people? Clementine tried to keep calm and remain hidden, but with every passing second she was becoming more unnerved by the silence than by what just happened.

Eventually Clem couldn't take it anymore, she had to know if there was anyone out there. Ever so carefully she leaned out from her hiding spot, figuring she could just briefly peek and then go right back to hiding. She moved her head out from behind the tree, and found herself facing a rifle barrel. Clem immediately froze in place, too terrified to make a move. She only just barely mustered the courage to shift her glance upwards at the person holding the gun.

She found herself looking at fairly young man with light blue eyes, shaggy facial hair and a dark red baseball cap. Much to Clementine's confusion, he looked frightened. An odd kind of silence followed as Clem waited for him to say something. She noticed he had dark hair, but not a flannel shirt, which means he wasn't the same person Omid was looking at. The next thing she noticed was the rifle he was holding wasn't the same one used by Omid, which means this was probably the man who shot him. After a tense minute, the young man slowly lowered his gun, eventually aiming it straight at the ground

"Hey…" he said in an uncertain voice. "Why don't you, just come out, and—" Clementine stepped out from behind the tree and aimed her gun right at the man. She moved her finger to the trigger while she watched the man recoil in fear at the sight of her.

"Wait, wait, just… just let me explain." Clementine glimpsed Omid's body just beyond where the man was standing. Seeing that before horrified her, but seeing it now made her angry. What possible explanation could there be for what happened? Who was he to tell her to wait after what he did? Why should she even listen to anything he says?

"Drop it!" Clem looked to her left to see a second man aiming a revolver at her. "Right now!" This man did have a flannel shirt on. He was also older than the first man, had more facial hair, darker skin, and clearly wasn't frightened but furious. Clem looked at his eyes and had no doubt he would shoot her if she didn't do what he said. Clem lowered her gun, and the man in flannel quickly took it from her.

"What did I tell you Nick?" spoke the man in flannel to the younger man, clearly frustrated. "Stay on your guard."

"What the fuck was I supposed to do?" retorted the younger man. "I didn't think she'd have a gun."

"Just go get the woman," ordered the man in flannel. "And for your sake, assume she does have a gun. It'll keep you from doing anything else stupid." The younger man glared at the older man before moving back in the cabin's direction.

"You," the man gestured at Clementine with his gun. "Take off that backpack, slowly. Then set it on the ground." Clem did as ordered, laying it at the man's feet. "Back up." Clem watched as the man pilfered through her mostly empty pack. After finding nothing of interest he tossed it aside. "Put your hands on your head." Clem's wound made that action painful to do, but she complied, wincing from the pain as she did so. "What happened to your arm?" Clem couldn't help but notice the total lack of concern in the man's voice. It was merely a question he wanted answered.

"I got bitten by—"

"You were?" The hint of alarm in the man's voice made Clementine realize how poorly worded her answer was.

"By a dog," Clem finished hastily.

"A dog?" asked the older man in disbelief. "It was, what, just in the woods?"

"Yeah, it was." This seemed to do little to convince the man.

"You're a bad liar," he accused.

"I'm not lying," insisted Clem.

"Save it. Start moving." The man gestured towards where Omid was lying. As Clem approached his body she could hear Christa's voice in the distance. Clem could see the younger man, Nick, was leading her at gunpoint.

"I swear to God, if you've hurt her, I'll…" Christa spotted what was left of her boyfriend. "Omid!" She rushed to his body and dropped to her knees. "Please God no. No, you can't… I…" Christa looked up to see a frightened Clementine and the man aiming a gun at her. "You fucking bastards! Why!"

"He was going to shoot Carlos," asserted Nick.

"He wasn't going to shoot," insisted Clementine. "He was just using the gun to see who was at the cabin."

"He was?" asked a surprised Nick.

"He wouldn't just shoot someone for no reason," stated a furious Christa. "But I guess you people do."

"I didn't just shoot him for no reason," insisted a frustrated Nick. "He was aiming at Carlos, I…"

"You don't have to justify yourself to her," asserted Carlos. "These people gave a gun to their kid. God knows what else they're capable of."

"She has a gun to protect herself," retorted Christa.

"Well little good it did her, seeing as she's bitten," noted Carlos.

"What are you talking…" Christa noticed Clementine's arm. She hurried to Clem's side and examined the bandage, noticing the shape of the wound from the bloodstains. "What the hell happened?"

"A dog bit me," repeated Clem.

"A dog?" asked Christa.

"A likely story," scoffed Carlos.

"If Clementine said it was a dog it was a dog," insisted Christa. "She wouldn't lie about something like that."

"Says you. I say we're quarantining her until morning," dictated Carlos. "Nick, I saw a shed by the cabin. Clean it out of anything useful and then lock the girl inside it."

"What?" exclaimed Clementine.

"You can't be serious," stated Christa in disbelief. "She's fucking bleeding!"

"I'm not risking ourselves for a bite victim. If it was just a dog then you shouldn't have anything to worry about. Right?" asked Carlos in a cold voice.

"Her arm could get infected or she could even bleed to death."

"It really hurts," moaned Clem. "Please, just let Christa fix it and I'll do what you want. I promise."

"I've got supplies in the house," explained Christa. "Just let me take care of her arm. I'll do it myself."

"Maybe we could let her do that, then lock her up?" suggested Nick.

"No," stated Carlos. "She already pulled a gun on you and her father was planning on killing me. We give them any opportunity and they'll use it against us. Best keep them separated."

"It was a dog!" insisted Clem.

"Just let me tend to her arm," begged Christa. "She's just a little girl."

This comment seemed to anger Carlos. "I need help for my little girl," he said through clenched teeth. "And you tried to kill me before I could even finish asking. Be thankful I'm not returning the favor."

"He wasn't going to kill you!" insisted Clem.

"And I don't see another little girl here," growled Christa.

"Maybe that's because I actually protect my daughter," retorted Carlos. "Not put a gun in her hand and tell her to point it at people."

"You fuckers!" snapped Christa.

"Nick, put the girl in the shed." Carlos pointed his gun at Christa. "You and I are going to that cabin. Once I find somewhere to lock her up, you can get Pete and we'll figure out what to do with them."

"I'll kill you people!" threatened Christa.

"I have no doubt," responded Carlos with little concern. "But if you really care at all about her, you'll cooperate."

Christa turned to a terrified Clementine, who was being held at gunpoint by Nick. "Clementine," said Christa as calmly as she could. "Just be brave. I'll figure something out. Okay? I won't let—"

"Enough," Carlos shoved Christa forward. "Start walking."

"Come on." Nick pulled Clem along by her good arm. She watched in disbelief as Carlos forced Christa back towards the cabin. "Hey, pay attention, you're not going there." Nick forced Clem ahead of him. She saw the shed just beyond the cabin.

"Please," begged a wounded Clem. "Please don't do this."

"Hey, don't put this on me," said Nick. "Your guy started it by aiming at Carlos."

"He wasn't going to shoot!" cried Clem. "He was just trying to see what was happening. That's it."

"And what about you?" asked Nick as they reached the shed. "Were you using your gun just to see me a minute ago?" Nick opened the shed door and glanced inside. "Go all the way to the back, where I'll be able to see you." Clementine did as instructed, marching to the back of the shed. She slowly turned around and saw Nick was quickly emptying the shelves, removing a hammer and a nail bucket.

"I'm sorry," pleaded Clem. "You shot Omid, then I saw people coming, and I saw your gun and… I didn't know what to do. I thought you were going to kill me." This confession caused Nick to take pause. He looked at the frightened girl standing alone in the back of the shed, clutching her arm for dear life.

"I… I wasn't just gonna shoot you, all right?" Nick sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead of Clem.

"Neither was Omid," repeated Clem.

"Well… then he shouldn't have been aiming a gun at someone," reasoned Nick.

"You aimed a gun at me," reminded Clem.

"Hey, I was aiming at the side of a tree. I didn't know who was behind it and I put it down when I saw you. You knew I wasn't going to kill you, but you aimed a gun at me anyway!" Nick glared angrily at Clem, who simply looked away in shame. "Well lucky for you I'm not the type of guy who'd just kill a little girl." Nick grabbed the last few remaining items in the shed and dumped them outside.

"Yes you are," accused Clem as Nick moved to close the door. "If you do this, you're going to kill me."

"It's not my fault you got bitten," retorted Nick.

"I wasn't bitten, not the way you think I was. But I could still die if I don't get help. And if that happens, it'll be your fault."

"No it's not. Even if it was a dog, it's still not my fault it bit you." Clem looked on in despair as Nick reached for the door.

"Fine, it's my fault," admitted a desperate Clementine. "But please, help me. You said you wouldn't kill a little girl. Doesn't that mean you want to help them too?" Nick held onto the door, unsure of how to answer. "I won't cause any trouble. I'll do whatever you say. Just please, please, don't leave me out here."

"I'll…" Nick sighed. He briefly looked at Clem, who stared desperately at the young man. "I'll talk to Carlos about it." Clem felt her heart sink. "But you gotta stay out here for now. That's just how it has to be." Nick shut the door, leaving a wounded Clem alone in the dark.


	6. Home Invasion

Clementine rocked back and forth on the ground, desperately trying to think of anything that could take her mind off her surroundings. She had already tried the door several times now. Pulling it, kicking it, banging on it, even ramming it with her shoulder. But it wouldn't budge. Clem had searched the shed probably a dozen times now for anything useful. But there was nothing. No windows, no tools, no signs of escape. Just four wooden walls and a roof.

She didn't know how long it had been since she was locked up. It's hard to keep track of time in an empty shed. Clem could see through the slits in the boards it was darker now, so it may have been at least a few hours. It was also raining now, something Clem could tell both from the sound and the water dripping in from the ceiling. She was grateful for that since it gave her something to drink, which helped slightly in curbing her hunger.

Unfortunately between the sun going down and it raining, it had gotten much cooler. Even more unfortunate, Clem discovered a drafty shed wasn't nearly as good at keeping out the cold as a well-built cabin. She had started shivering what felt like an hour ago and her teeth had recently started chattering, and it was getting colder still.

As bad as the cold was, Clementine's arm was still her biggest problem. The pain was worse than ever and the wound had started slowly bleeding through the bandage Omid had made. She was afraid to even look at the injury, worried she would see her whole arm just covered in blood at this point, or worse.

With nothing else to do, Clementine tried to go to sleep. She was pretty tired, maybe she could just wake up in the morning and things would be better. The girl curled up in one of the corners, pulled her knees up to her chest, shut her eyes and tried to force out the cold and the pain and the hunger from her mind, but it was too much. She couldn't even ignore the cold thanks to an oddly localized draft hitting the back of her head.

Clementine rolled over and studied the wall, hoping to find the source of the draft. The shed didn't have a floor, it was just built on top of the dirt, and there was a gap between a couple of the boards where the ground was uneven. Clementine edged in closer and looked through the gap. She could actually see the cabin through it, or at very least the bottom of it.

Clem pushed on the boards above the gap, but they didn't give. She sat up and started kicking them instead, hitting them over and over again until her foot hurt. It made no difference. Clem sighed. She tried to stick her hand through the gap, just hoping to get a little bit closer to home. She wanted nothing more than to get away from the cabin this morning, but now she'd give anything just to spend the night in her bed again.

Unable to fit, Clem pulled back her hand, now covered in dirt. She looked at the gap again, thinking if she was just a little bigger or stronger she could break those boards and get out, but she wasn't. Clem started wiping the dirt off her hand, further ruining her already ruined dress, and then it dawned on her. She couldn't move the boards, but she could move the dirt.

Clem dug her nails into the dirt around the gap. The ground was cold and hard, but she managed to pry a handful of soil loose. She tossed it in the corner and immediately reached for another handful. Again, again and again she dug out a scoop of the ground, widening the gap a little bit at a time. Her fingertips became very sore as she dug, having to use them to break the increasingly hard ground, but Clem refused to slow down.

Every handful let her see a little bit more of the outside. Clem tested the gap by sticking her arm through. She managed to get her whole shoulder past the opening, but there wasn't nearly enough room for her head, so she started widening the opening. Her hand was beginning to ache, but the sight of the cabin was enough for Clem to keep shoveling at a frantic pace.

Unable to wait any longer, Clem plunged her whole head through the opening. It was a very tight fit, and she had to close her eyes as her face brushed against the wet ground. But slowly she managed to force herself through the opening. Rain started falling on her head as half of her emerged on the other side of the wall. However, Clem had trouble pulling the rest of herself through the hole.

She had to bend at an odd angle to get under the boards and was now pinned at the waist by the shed wall. Clem reached out with her good hand and dug into the ground, trying to pull herself free. She managed to budge a little, but slid right back into place after she stopped pulling. Clem didn't think she could possibly go backwards at this point, and even if she could she didn't want to. So, she did the only other thing she could think of.

Clem reached out with both arms and dug her fingers into the dirt as deeply as she could to get a grip. Just gripping the ground was painful with her bad arm, but she didn't know what else to do. Clem took a deep breath and started pulling as hard as she could with both arms. The pain was immediate and excruciating, but she gritted her teeth and kept pulling. Her hips slid under the wall and the exact moment her legs entered the hole she started pushing off the ground. With a final agonizing pull, Clem freed herself from the shed and collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion.

She laid there for a moment, taking deep breaths as the cold rain drenched her filthy clothes. She briefly glanced at her arm, but had to look away when she saw it. The bandage was entirely soaked with blood that was now trailing off the end of her hand. Realizing the urgency of her situation, Clementine forced herself to stand up and faced the cabin, unsure how to proceed.

She moved to one of the windows and carefully peered inside. The interior was dimly lit by candlelight. Clementine could make out two figures in the distance. She assumed they were Nick and Carlos, but the dark made it hard to tell. She was fairly certain neither was Christa though. Her pregnancy made her recognizable even in silhouette.

Something passed in front of the window and Clem ducked out of sight. Looking straight up at the window, she could see someone was standing in front of her, but their back was turned. Clem started edging away from the window, not wanting to risk being seen. As she did so, she could hear them speaking through the wall. She couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like three different voices, and none of them sounded like Christa.

Moving out of earshot of their conversation, Clementine headed for the back porch. It was covered and provided a little respite from the weather, allowing her to rest for a moment. She was both freezing and soaking wet now, quite a miserable combination. Clem looked up at the door and was tempted to step inside, just to get slightly warmer for a minute. But it seemed like much too big a risk, and for far too little payoff.

Looking around she noticed the lattice siding that surrounded the sides of the porch. The pattern of intersecting boards made for a series of gaps that seemed just the right size for her to use as footholds. Clem tested it by sticking her foot in one of the holes and used her arm to pull herself off the ground. It felt sturdy. She could probably climb on top of the wooden overhang that ran over the porch.

Clementine stepped off the porch and looked up at the side of the cabin. There were three windows on the second floor, one of which was directly above the porch. If it was open, she could slip into the second floor. She wasn't sure what she'd do when she got inside, but at very least it'd be warmer. It certainly couldn't be worse than standing outside in the rain, so Clem started climbing.

It was difficult with just one functional arm. She had to stretch out to grab the highest handhold, then push off with one of her legs until she could find footing with the other. The rain wasn't helping either, making everything slippery. But gradually Clem worked her way up the side of the porch, eventually emerging on top of it. She headed for the nearest window, but a loud bang from inside caused her to jump.

Clem noticed the nearest window was broken. As she approached the opening, another loud bang echoed from inside the cabin. Unsure of what to expect, Clem carefully inched closer. A few more bangs sounded as she reached the window frame. Peeking inside she found the source of the noise, it was Christa banging her shoulder against the door.

"Christa!"

"Clementine!" An overjoyed Christa rushed to the window and helped Clem inside. "You got out. Thank God," whispered Christa as she put her arms around the shivering girl.

"Are you okay?" asked Clem as she hugged Christa, both for comfort and for warmth.

"I'm all right," assured Christa. "They put me in here and nailed the door shut from the other side. I've been trying to break the door down, but the damn thing won't budge. The window only opens half way, so I've tried knocking it out of the frame, but it wouldn't give either."

"I had to dig under the shed wall, and almost got stuck," informed Clementine. "I think I made my arm worse when I did." Christa gently took Clem's arm in hand and examined it. Clem looked away as Christa slowly peeled back the bandage, hoping to spare herself a horrible sight. Instead she saw Christa grimace in disgust, which just worried Clem more.

"We've got to take care of this," reported a concerned Christa as she tightened Clem's bandage. "The sooner, the better."

"Can you fix it?" asked Clementine.

"If I had our first aid kit, I think I could." Christa sighed. "But I'm stuck in this room." Clementine moved back to the window and looked outside. The window next to this one led to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the porch stopped a few feet before that, leaving an uncomfortable gap between where Clem could stand safely and where she needed to go.

"No," insisted Christa as she examined the surroundings and realized what Clem was thinking. "There's no way."

"If I could reach it, I could get inside and get the first aid kit," realized Clem.

"And if you fall you could break something," added Christa. "And there still wouldn't be anything we could do about it." The thought of further injuring herself caused Clem to take pause.

"If… if you don't fix my arm, what'll happen?" Clem asked nervously. "Will I be okay?" Christa didn't answer immediately, but the look on her face made it clear that Clem probably wouldn't be okay. "Christa?"

"It looks pretty bad Clem," informed a reluctant Christa. "And the longer that wound is open, the more likely you're going to get an infection."

"That's really bad, isn't it?" Christa nodded drearily in response. Clem turned back to the window and looked outside. "It's not too far," Clem tried to convince herself. "I… I think I could make it."

"I don't like this," confessed an apprehensive Christa. "But we really don't have any other options."

"If I can't reach it, I'll come right back," promised Clementine.

"Okay, I'll keep trying to bust out the window frame. If I could just get out I can help you over." Christa picked up a wooden chair sitting in the corner.

"Won't they hear you?" asked Clem.

"They started ignoring me like an hour ago. They'd probably get suspicious if I stopped making noise for too long," explained Christa. "Also, this way they won't hear you if you get inside." Clem climbed back out the window and headed for the edge of the porch's roof. Christa started banging on the window frame with the chair, making plenty of noise as planned.

Looking over at the bathroom window, it suddenly seemed a lot further away than it did a minute ago. Clem moved right to the very edge and stretched out with her good arm until it hurt. Even with her fingers completely extended the window was still just barely out of reach.

Clementine moved to the cabin wall and pressed her back flat against it, then inched over to the very edge of the porch roof. Again she reached out, managing to find the seam where the window meet the window sill. There was no handle on the outside of the window, so her only choice was to try to pry it open. Clem pushed her fingernails into the thin crack under the window and tried pulling it open. With no success, Clem gave the window a sudden forceful tug.

She felt her stomach drop as she suddenly lost her balance. Clem instinctively swung her arm back towards the wall and managed to regain her footing before she fell. After giving herself a few seconds for her heart to stop pounding, Clem tried for the window again. Her last attempt seemed to create a tiny opening for her to use. She forced her fingers under the window, then started pulling. The awkward angle made it hard to apply force, but steadily she could feel the window moving. After getting it to move a couple of inches, the window slid the rest of the way with ease.

Clementine carefully moved away from the edge. She looked at the now wide open window, actually feeling a bit of pride in what she managed. It didn't last though, as Clem realized she now had to jump to the open window. It was a very short distance, but the window was also a narrow target and it was a steep drop if she missed. Clementine backed up several feet, readying herself for a running jump.

She sprinted across the porch roof and threw herself at the open window. Greatly overestimating how much speed she would need, Clem collided stomach first with the window sill, knocking the breath out of her and folding the upper half of her body forward through the opening. Clem hastily grabbed onto the sill before gravity took effect. She pulled with all her might, straining the muscles in her good arm to no end. It took every bit of strength she had, but she pulled the rest of body through the window and flopped onto the hardwood floor.

Clementine lay there for a brief time, contemplating the entirely new level of exhaustion she had just discovered, wondering if she could possibly feel more tired than she did right now. But after taking a few deep breaths, she picked herself up and headed for the sink. She opened the cabinet under it, expecting to find the red and black tackle box they kept their medical supplies in. But the cabinet was empty.


	7. The Girl at the End of the Hall

"What…" Clementine checked again, still in disbelief at what she saw. "No… why?" Turning away from the sink, Clementine eyed the linen closet by the door. She raced over to it and pulled the closet open, hoping somehow the first aid kit had been moved into it, but it hadn't.

Someone else must have already taken the first aid kit. Suddenly the agony of her wounded arm became unbearable in light of losing the only means to mend it. She clutched the injury in a pitiful attempt to soothe the pain even slightly. Unsure of what to do now, Clementine gazed at the bathroom door.

Realizing there was little for her to lose at this point, Clem very slowly slid the door open and peeked outside. Seeing nothing, she carefully stepped out into the hall. A succulent scent seemed to be hanging in the air. So compelling it was to the hungry girl she found herself drawn to the banister overlooking the first floor.

She could hear a familiar crackling and realized someone was cooking in the fireplace. Clem recognized the fragrance, it was definitely freshly roasted fish. Normally she was indifferent to that smell, but at the moment it was intoxicating. Clem found herself almost forgetting about her objective before a muffled bang startled her back to her senses. It was immediately followed by more bangs in quick succession.

"Sounds like she's at it again," noted a gruff voice. "You two must have really pissed her off something fierce." Clem didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded like it was coming from the living room.

"Let her vent," insisted Carlos. "She'll get tired eventually."

"Maybe… maybe I should go check on her?" suggested Nick.

"You really think she'd want to see you?" asked Carlos. "Just leave her until morning. If she feels like talking, we can talk then." Since everyone was still on the first floor, Clem realized she could search the upstairs in relative safety. She moved to the door that led to the room Christa was in. There were three boards nailed over it. Clem tried pulling on one, but it wasn't coming off. Even if it did, she couldn't reach the highest one.

With no clue where to start looking, she headed for her own room, figuring it was as good a place as any to search for the missing first aid kit. She cracked the door open, and was immediately greeted with a pair of startled brown eyes staring right at her. They belonged to a dark haired girl in red-rimmed glasses sitting on Clem's bed with a book in hand. The two girls just stared at each other in utter bewilderment until the girl with glasses finally broke the silence.

"You're… you're not supposed to be here," she whispered nervously.

"This is my room," proclaimed Clementine.

"It is?" Reasoning she had already been spotted, Clem stepped into her room and closed the door. "Who are you? Why are you…" The girl stopped mid-sentence when she caught sight of Clementine's bandaged and bleeding arm.

"Please, can you help me?" The girl didn't answer. Her eyes were wide open in terror and she was taking deep panicked breaths. "Hey, can you hear me?"

"Wuh… wuh… what happened to your arm?" she stammered.

"A dog bit me," answered Clem.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just need to fix it."

"I… I'll go get my dad," suggested the girl. "He—"

"No!" Clementine wasn't sure which man was the girl's dad. Judging from her brown skin, she was probably the daughter Carlos mentioned, the last person Clem wanted to see right now. "I just need one thing. It's a red and black plastic box. If you could give me that, or just tell me where it is, I'll go away, and you won't have to tell anyone I was ever here."

"I haven't seen anything like that."

"Well, maybe you could help me find it?"

"I… I can't," answered the girl reluctantly. "My dad said—"

"I could die if I don't get it." This revelation clearly disturbed the girl, twisting the expression on her face from wide-eyed terror to deep-seated concern. "Please," begged an anguished Clementine. "Please don't let me die." The plea clearly affected the girl, all though Clem couldn't be certain how. She set her book down and stepped off the bed. Clem was surprised to see the girl was a head taller than her, and at least a few years older as well.

"Just wait here," she spoke softly as she headed for the door. "I'll be right back."

"What are—"

"I'll help you," she whispered. "I promise." There was sincerity in the way she said the word promise, but it did little to ease Clementine's mind. She watched the girl peek out the door, before stepping outside and quietly closing the door behind her. Clem was now alone in her own room.

It felt surreal being an intruder in her own home. Looking at the bed, Clementine realized the book the girl was holding was actually one of Clem's own. In the span of an afternoon these people seemed to have claimed what little she had left. They had moved into her house as if it was their own and already given what meager possessions Clem had to some other girl. It was probably even the fish Omid had caught they were cooking for dinner.

Clem moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. She was relieved to see her radio and her drawings were still where she had left them. She thought about taking them, but then she realized she'd have to carry them back out the window and into the rain, something that might ruin them, or at very least would be even more work for something she didn't really need right now. Clem sighed as she pushed the drawer shut, annoyed she seemingly couldn't hold onto what little she had left in this world. She sat down on the bed, wondering how long until the girl returned, or if she'd even return at all.

It then dawned on Clem that this person had no reason to actually help her, and was probably just looking for an excuse to leave the room. If she really was one of these people's daughter, then she was probably telling one of them right now about what she saw. A shiver shot up Clementine's spine as she realized Carlos or the others may be on their way upstairs this very moment. Clem raced to the exit, hoping to escape through the bathroom window. Opening the door, Clem was greeted with a pair of familiar brown eyes staring at her in surprise, again.

"Um… is this what you wanted?" Clem opened the door wider to see the girl was holding the first aid kit in question.

"That's it." Clem snatched it right out of the girl's hand and set it on the floor. She popped the clasps on it and flipped the top open.

"I guess it got mixed in with my dad's things." Clem examined the kit's contents and, much to her relief, it looked like everything was still there. "You can have it back, just please don't tell my dad. Okay?"

"I won't." Clem hastily closed the first aid kit and raced back into the bathroom, leaving the girl behind in the hall. She scampered onto the window sill and leaned outside with the first aid kit in hand. She swung the kit back and forth a few times to build up momentum before sending it tumbling through the air and back onto the porch roof. She then stood up on the little bit of room afforded to her by the sill and hopped the gap with relative ease. Clem scooped up the kit and raced towards the window.

"You're back," exclaimed a relieved Christa. "You'd been gone so long I figured they'd caught you, or worse." Christa took the first aid kit and then helped Clementine through the window.

"The first aid kit wasn't in the bathroom," explained Clementine. "I needed… help, to find it."

"Help?" questioned Christa as she started digging through the kit for what she needed.

"I'll explain later." Clementine watched as Christa threaded a sewing needle with a length of fishing line. "Oh no…"


	8. Do It Yourself Surgery

"I won't lie, this will hurt." Christa finished tying the fishing line to the needle and cut the line with a small pair of clippers.

"A lot?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah…" Christa looked at the frightened girl with a sense of pity. "In fact, you're probably gonna make a lot of noise when I do it, and if they hear that, they'll know you're here and come running."

"I'll… I won't make any noise," promised a nervous Clementine.

"You might not be able to help it." Christa looked at the banged up chair she had used as a club earlier. "But I think I know what can." She stomped on one of the wooden rods connecting the chairs legs, snapping it. Christa collected the piece of wood and offered it to Clem.

"Here, put this in your mouth and bite down on it."

"Why?"

"It'll help with the pain. Or at very least, it'll muffle your screams." Clem looked nervously at the wooden rod, deeply dreading what was coming next. "You don't have to be quiet the whole time. Just try not to yell for as long as you can. They spent a long time nailing the door shut, so they won't be able to get back in right away. But the longer they don't hear you, the more time I'll have to finish sewing up your arm before they can stop me." Clementine reluctantly took the stick from Christa and clenched it between her teeth.

"Okay, let's get started." Christa slowly unwrapped Clem's bandage. They both were disturbed by the deep red gash running across the length of Clem's forearm, dried blood smeared in every direction around it, as if a bloody canyon had formed on Clem's arm. "I've got to clean the wound first." Christa took a nearly empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and dabbed a small rag with it. "It's gonna sting. Like I said, just do your best not to yell. It's okay if you can't make it the whole time. Just try not to yell for as long as possible. Okay?" Clem nodded in response while Christa firmly gripped Clem's wrist. "Ready?" Clem nodded again.

Christa rubbed the alcohol soaked rag across Clem's wound. It stung a little at first, then burned like hell shortly after that. Clem whimpered in pain, biting down on the stick as it felt like salt was being rubbed in her wound. "It's just a bit more," whispered an apologetic Christa. Clem continued to make muffled cries of pain as the searing pain continued. Christa set the rag down and reached for the needle next. She quickly wiped it with the rag coated in alcohol then turned to Clementine.

"Now, here comes the hard part." Clem was still waiting for the pain from the alcohol to subside when Christa aimed the needle at the edge of the wound. "Don't watch, it's easier if you don't." Clem closed her eyes and bit down on the stick. "Now, brace yourself." The girl squealed in agony as the needle pierced her flesh. She could actually feel it being pushed into her skin. Just when it felt like the worst was over, Clem felt the needle pierce her arm again, leading to even more garbled cries of pain. Christa pulled the thread through, snipped the line, then tied a tight knot, prompting more agonized moans from Clem.

"You're doing good Clem," encouraged Christa. "Now—"

Clem spat out the stick. "Are we done yet?" she asked, desperate for the answer to be yes.

"No, that was just the first one."

"Wuh… what?" stammered a bewildered Clementine. "How many more times do you have to do that?"

Christa examined the wound. "I'd say you need at least five more stitches."

"Five?" asked a horrified Clementine.

"At least." Panic washed over Clem's body. "I'm gonna go as fast I can." Christa picked up the stick. "I know it's hard, but it won't be for very long." Clem reluctantly opened her mouth, allowing Christa to place the stick in it. "Just hang in there. You'll feel a lot better when it's over." Clem bit down and looked away as Christa readied the needle again.

Again Clem had to endure a series of painful stabs around her already incredibly sore wound. The second stitch seemed to hurt even more than the first. The needle somehow felt bigger each time it pierced Clem's skin, with the third stitch feeling like an entire railroad spike was being stabbed into her arm.

Clem was biting the stick so hard she was afraid she was going to snap it. Her gums were sore from clenching her teeth so tightly and she could actually taste the wood in her mouth. As Christa started the fourth stitch, Clem finally found the pain unbearable. She didn't care about infection anymore, she just wanted to stop the overwhelming agony shooting up her arm like a rush of acid flowing through her veins.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" begged a hysterical Clem as the stick fell out of her mouth.

"It's just two more," informed a repentant Christa. "It won't take—" Muffled shouts sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a loud bang. "Shit, they heard you."

"Just stop! Please!" sobbed an anguished Clementine. "Please, just—" Christa started another stitch. Tears rolled down Clem's face as she struggled to escape Christa's iron grip. She kept screaming for mercy while the needle punctured her skin yet again. She struggled against Christa with whatever strength she had left. Clementine shrieked in pain as she felt Christa start yet another stitch. She pulled with all her might, even pushing against the floor with her legs to try to escape the torment. She felt the needle yet again and hollered as loud as she could. Clem kept pulling as hard as she could until finally, her arm was free.

Clementine scrambled into the corner and curled her arm up to her chest, desperate to keep it away from Christa. She started gasping for air in one breath and sobbing in the next as she rubbed her arm for some small token of comfort. As the pain dulled slightly and her breathing slowed, she could see Christa approaching her.

"No! No!" insisted a hysterical Clementine.

"It's over!"

"What?" asked Clementine between breaths.

"I said it's over." Christa's voice carried a mixture of guilt and relief. "You're all done. See?" Christa gently pried Clem's arm away from the rest of her body, revealing the six stitches across her wound. Clem couldn't help notice how small they were compared to how much pain they had caused her, but seeing the gash reduced to a narrow cut did provide her with a small tinge of relief. "You did good Clem. You did so good." Christa put her arm around Clem and gently rubbed her back. "All I got to do is clean it up a little and wrap a bandage around it, okay? It'll be easy. The worst part is over."

The door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang. Standing at the threshold was Carlos, Nick, and an older man wearing dark green with a receding hairline and a patchy beard. The gray-haired man looked down and found himself bewildered by the sight of the trembling little girl in a muddy dress and the severely pissed pregnant woman angrily staring back at him.


	9. Unwanted House Guests

"Just what the hell am I looking at?" The older man gazed at the bizarre sight of a bloody little girl being coddled by a very angry and severely pregnant woman with a sense of bewilderment. "Where the fuck did they come from?"

"She got out!" barked Carlos as he stepped forward.

"Back the hell up." The older man held out his arm and blocked Carlos. "Who the hell are they?"

"You the one in charge around here?" snarled Christa.

"No, Pete isn't in charge," answered Carlos.

"The hell I'm not!" The older man glared at Carlos. "Don't think for one second what happened to my leg will keep me from kicking your ass Carlos!" Carlos scowled in response, which just seemed to further infuriate Pete. The two stared angrily at each other for a moment, then Carlos took a step back. "Now, is someone gonna tell me what the hell I'm looking at?"

"We did tell you. We isolated a bite victim, who apparently got out." Carlos stared angrily at Clementine. "Then we locked the woman we found upstairs."

"You didn't mention anything about the bitten one being a kid or the woman being pregnant," retorted Pete.

"I don't see how that changes anything," stated Carlos in a cold voice. "Their man tried to kill us, the woman threatened to kill us, their girl even had a gun, and was bitten to boot, and she still is!"

"I wasn't bitten!" yelled Clementine. "Not by a walker!"

"And Omid wouldn't have killed anyone unless they gave him a good reason!" stated Christa.

"Asking for help, that was a good reason?" bellowed Carlos.

"You weren't asking!" accused Christa.

"Your guy was going to shoot Carlos, I saw it," added Nick.

"He wasn't going to shoot anyone!" insisted Clementine.

"Shut the fuck up! All of you!" Pete's outburst managed to quell the bickering. "Jesus Christ. Now, let's start with the most pressing issue. You were bitten?"

"I wasn't—"

"Don't tell me about it, just show me." Clem looked to Christa, who simply nodded. Clem held out her arm to reveal her recently treated injury. Pete knelt down, groaning as he clutched a large bandage on his left knee. He took Clem's arm and examined the newly made stitches. "That explains the screaming we heard."

"The wound's too big to be a walker bite," asserted Christa.

"Yeah, it is," noted Pete. "How is it you two didn't notice?"

"They didn't even look at it," informed Christa.

"I wasn't all that concerned with the welfare of someone who pointed a gun at your nephew," retorted Carlos.

"You aimed a gun at Nick?" Clementine turned away from Pete in shame.

"Yes," she said weakly.

"All right, we'll come back to that." Pete let go of Clem's arm and then slowly stood back up, bracing his leg as he did. "Carlos, seeing as you're a doctor, how bout—"

"You're a doctor!" exclaimed Christa. "And you were still going to leave her out there in the cold with her arm cut open like that?" Carlos ignored Christa's outburst.

"As I was saying…" spoke Pete. "Carlos, take a look at her arm, make sure it's patched up right."

"I—"

"I'm not asking you."

Carlos groaned and knelt down to examine Clementine's injury. "Your suturing skills could use work," he noted.

"Well next time you can just do it yourself." Again, Carlos ignored Christa's comment.

"She closed the wound, it just needs to be bandaged," commented Carlos. "Now I want to know, how did you get in here?" Carlos's stare made Clementine hesitant to answer.

"Are… are you gonna lock me in the shed again?" she asked nervously.

"Just answer the—"

"If you're not bitten I don't see the need for that," interrupted Pete. "But we still need to know how you got in."

"I… I dug under the wall," recounted Clementine. "Then I climbed on top of the porch and came in the window."

"If you weren't bitten we would have let you out in the morning," reminded Carlos. "You could—"

"It was freezing," interrupted Clementine. "And my arm was bleeding. And it wouldn't stop hurting. And… I thought I was going to die." Christa comforted a distraught Clementine while the others seemed momentarily stunned by her confession.

"Nick, tell me you didn't know anything about this," pleaded Pete.

"He was the one who locked me in there."

Pete looked at a guilt-ridden Nick. "Jesus Nick…"

"You told me to back up Carlos," reasoned Nick.

"Yeah, but only because I thought you'd use some goddamn sense," barked Pete.

"You're lecturing him on common sense?" retorted Carlos. "She's the one who pulled a gun, after Nick put his down. If anything he shouldn't have assumed that she was no threat just because she was a child."

"Sounded like she did something stupid, but I'm not for leaving her to die on just that," rationalized Pete. "Hell, that's the kind of thing we were trying to get away from."

"You're trying to get away from, my one and only concern is protecting Sarah," stated Carlos.

"Is that the girl in my room?" Clementine's question seemed to enrage Carlos.

"How do you know about her?" he asked in a low growl. "Did you go near my daughter? What did you do?" Clementine cowered before Carlos's increasingly hostile questions.

"I've had enough of you talking to her like that!" Christa put herself between Carlos and Clem. "You people kill Omid, take me prisoner in my own house, leave Clementine to suffer, and you're worried about what she did to you!"

"I swear, if you did anything to Sarah, I'll—"

"Carlos, if you're so goddamn worried about Sarah why don't you go check on her?" suggested Pete. "She's literally just down the hall."

"I…" The simplicity of Pete's suggestion seemed to catch Carlos off guard, leaving him at a loss for words. He briefly looked at a bitter Christa, then stood up and left the room.

"All right, now that we've gotten rid of him for a minute, I'd like to hear the girl's side of the story." Clementine watched as Pete righted the knocked over chair in the corner.

"You're gonna trust her?" asked a skeptical Nick.

"She seems like she's been pretty straight forward with me so far, which is more than I can say for you and Carlos today." Nick scowled in response to Pete's comment. "And I'm confident I could catch her if she tries any bullshit."

"Yeah, you're real hard asses, picking on a little girl," mocked Christa.

"I ain't picking on anyone, I just want to know what happened. So let's sit down, and talk." Pete sat down, bracing his bandaged knee as he did so. "All right, now—ah!" The chair collapsed out from under Pete, dropping him onto the hardwood floor. "God dammit!"

"Pete, you okay?" asked Nick.

"What happened?" inquired Carlos as he rushed back into the room.

"Damn chair broke." Pete removed what was left of the seat from under him. "I'm fine. Just go check on Sarah." Carlos took his leave while Pete tossed what was left of the chair aside. "Guess I'll just sit on the floor. Now, Clementine is it?" Clem nodded. "Real quick, give me a short version of what happened between now and when you ran into my people."

"A dog bit me while we were in the woods. Omid was bringing me to the cabin, but then he saw two people. They were far away so he used the gun to see them better. But I don't think he would've shot anyone."

"But you're not sure?" asked Pete.

"Well… no. But he was really nice. I don't think he would've shot someone without finding out who they were first. He was going to tell me what he was going to do." Anger crept across Clementine's face. "But then someone shot him."

"Carlos told me to circle around back while he was talking to her." Nick gestured to Christa. "When I came around the side of the house, I saw the glint from a rifle scope. When I saw that guy aiming at Carlos I…" Nick stopped suddenly, as if he was having trouble remembering what happened next. "I just pulled the trigger."

"It sounds like you made the right call to me," concluded Pete.

"The right call?" exclaimed Christa. "She just told you—"

"Look lady—"

"Christa."

"Christa," corrected Pete. "Pointing guns at someone for any reason other than possibly shooting them was a bad idea before the dead started walking around."

"He—"

"If you had seen one of us off in the distance aiming a rifle at him, would you have waited to see if we were just looking at him?"

"I'd…" Christa found herself at a loss for words, only able to answer Pete with a look of aggravation.

"What happened next?" asked Pete.

"I saw people coming towards me," recalled Clem. "So I hid behind a tree. When I tried to look out, he was aiming a gun at me."

"I heard something and figured there were more of them," explained Nick. "I didn't know it was a kid. I put it down when I saw her face. Then she comes out of hiding and pointed a gun at me."

"And why'd you do that?" Pete's calm tone wavered with that question.

"I don't know," mumbled a nervous Clem.

"That's not a good answer," insisted Pete.

"I was scared," reasoned Clem.

"I put the gun down. I wasn't going to hurt you," insisted Nick.

"I… I was angry too," confessed Clem. "I could still see his body on the ground and I just wanted to…" Christa and Nick shared a look of concern as Clementine trailed off.

"Just wanted to what?" asked a deeply concerned Pete.

"I… um…"

"Please, just leave her alone," begged Christa in a pitiful voice. "She's just a child, she was in pain, she lost someone she cared about, she didn't know who you people were and she wasn't thinking straight."

"And she had a gun," added Pete. "That's a dangerous combination."

"I'm… I'm sorry," cried Clementine. "Please, please don't lock me back in the shed." Pete looked at mud stained, blood splattered, rain-soaked, sobbing little girl with the freshly treated arm wound and sighed.

"Seeing as nothing happened this time, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt that you probably make better decisions when you're not dealing with so much shit all at once," said Pete with a hint of sympathy. "And for the record, Carlos was right. You shouldn't have taken your sights off her until after you knew she wasn't armed."

"I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't. So, moving on, what happened next?"

"Carlos took my gun. Then he said I'd have to stay in the shed until morning because he thought I was bitten," recounted Clem.

"And you went along with this?" Pete turned to Nick.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea," insisted Nick.

"I didn't ask whose idea it was," snapped Pete.

"Why are you getting on my case?" asked an indignant Nick. "You heard her. She wanted to shoot me."

"Like I said, she did something stupid, but I ain't willing to let a kid die over that anymore than I'd let you die over being stupid."

"I didn't even want to leave her in the shed. I tried talking to Carlos about it but he said it was too big a risk."

"She can't weigh more than a hundred pounds, even soaking wet," noted Pete. "And if you had bothered checking her arm you would have known it wasn't a lurker bite to begin with."

"Carlos wasn't having it."

"Then you should have insisted."

"To Carlos? You know what he's like."

"God dammit Nick, I can't be holding your hand all the damn time. Especially not now," asserted Pete in a harsh tone. "You really think Carlos is going to be the worst of our problems? If you can't handle him how do you ever expect to survive out here?"

"Hey, I can handle him," boasted Nick. "It's just—"

"Unbelievable!" Carlos shoved his way past Nick and headed right for Christa and Clementine. "You barge into my girl's room and scare her half to death. And that screaming practically brought her to tears."

"Brought her to tears?" repeated Christa in disbelief. "How the fuck do you think Clementine felt!"

"I think Sarah will survive the ordeal of hearing someone else going through hell," quipped Pete in a sarcastic tone.

"Don't patronize me!" snapped Carlos. "You know what Sarah's like. How she gets. If she ever saw how bad things are, it would destroy her. And I'm not letting that happen!"

"You'll just let some other girl bleed to death instead," snapped Christa.

"I've had enough of you," snarled Carlos. "I don't want you or your daughter anywhere near mine."

"You're the ones who came to us!" reminded a furious Christa. "We don't want anything to do with you people. And Clementine's not my daughter. But if you ever go near her again I'll kill you."

"So, that guy wasn't her father?" asked Nick, sounding somewhat relieved.

"No, he was this child's father!" Christa gestured to her stomach, an act which startled Nick.

"You being pregnant or her being a girl doesn't excuse what you've done!" stated Carlos.

"What we've done?" retorted an indignant Christa. "You kill the man I love, take me prisoner in my home and leave a wounded girl out in the cold to die!"

"I'm gettin' real tired of this," interjected Pete as he stood up.

"Oh, you're tired of this?" asked an annoyed Christa.

"Yes, I am," responded Pete in a harsh tone.

"I don't want them in this house," demanded Carlos.

"I don't give a goddamn what you want," stated Pete.

"I don't have to stand for this!" snarled Carlos.

"You do if you want me and Nick's help," asserted Pete. "If that's not the case, by all means, go get Sarah and leave."

"How bout you all just leave?" suggested a bitter Christa.

"That's not an option," retorted Pete. "My people are in no condition to move right now and we need some time to resupply."

"You need?" asked Christa. "What about—"

"We're not leaving tonight," declared Pete. "And we're not kicking them out either," Pete told Carlos before he could open his mouth. "What happened was unfortunate, but it's in the past now."

"The past?" repeated Christa. "It was earlier today!"

"I'm just saying, there's no taking any of it back now," clarified Pete. "So why don't you come downstairs and we can all discuss how this is gonna work."

"Why not just do that right here?" challenged Christa.

"I figure the little one might like a little time to herself." Pete gestured to Clementine, who was sitting quietly on the floor with a sullen look on her face. "Let her get cleaned up in peace," he suggested in a sympathetic tone.

"Let me get her a change of clothes first," said Christa in a calmer voice. "She's got an extra set in her room."

"I'll get them," insisted Carlos. "I don't want you frightening Sarah anymore than you already have." Christa glared at Carlos as he exited the room.

"We'll be waiting downstairs," informed Pete. "Just head on down when you're done helping your girl." Pete gestured to Nick and the pair stepped outside. Christa sat down next to Clementine and placed her arm on the girl's shoulder.

"How you feeling sweetie?" asked Christa in a quiet voice.

"Bad," answered a downcast Clem. "Really bad."


	10. A Time to Reflect

"How's the arm sweetie?" asked Christa.

"It still hurts, a lot" whimpered the wounded nine-year-old. "But, I guess it's a little better than before."

"I'm so sorry about that Clem," apologized Christa. "It'll take some time for it to get better. But now that it's closed up you're gonna be okay. We'll get you cleaned up and then you can get some rest. Okay?" Clem didn't answer. "And, here, I want you to take this." Christa retrieved a pill bottle from the first aid box.

"What is it?"

"It's an antibiotic." Christa placed a rather large capsule in Clem's hand. "You swallow that so you won't get an infection. They're leftover from Savannah, from when Omid's leg…" Christa begin to choke up upon mentioning Omid's name. "Come on, I'll take you to the bathroom. Then I've got a lot to tell these people." Christa took Clem by the hand and led her out the door. As they emerged into the hallway they saw Carlos approaching from the direction of Clementine's room.

"Here." Carlos thrust a pink shirt and a small pair of jeans into Christa's arms.

"It didn't scare your girl too much to give these up?" scoffed Christa.

"I'm serious when I said to keep away from her," reminded Carlos in a cold voice. "If either of you do anything to her, Pete won't save you." Carlos marched down the stairs without another word.

"Can you believe that man?" asked Christa. "Going on about his girl after what he did to you?" Christa walked with Clem to the bathroom. She set Clem's clothes on the sink and moved to the linen closet.

"What a shock, they didn't steal our towels while they were at it." Christa handed Clem a towel and moved to the open window. "I can't believe what they put you through." Christa closed the window. "Okay, you get all cleaned up. And don't forget to swallow that pill I gave you. I'll be back in a minute." Christa gave Clem a final concerned look, then left her alone in the bathroom.

Clem locked the door and then moved to the mirror over the sink. It was dark so she could only see her reflection's outline. She moved in closer to the mirror, hoping to see more, when a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room. The sudden sight of her own reflection startled Clementine. Her face was completely caked in dried blood and dirt.

Clem instinctively started scrubbing her face as hard as she could. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, Clementine could see the rest of herself in the mirror. Her dress was more of a tattered rag than a piece of clothing at this point. It was only now Clementine realized her hat was gone. It must have come off sometime during her escape.

Saddening as its absence was, Clementine was presently more concerned with trying to clean off the layer of filth she had acquired. She wished the cabin had running water so she could just take a bath, instead all she had was handfuls of rainwater from the window sill.

After cleaning herself the best she could, Clementine changed into the pink shirt and jeans Christa had left her. She usually didn't wear them because she liked her dress more, and the shirt was a little too big as well. But looking at what was left of her dress lying on the floor made Clementine realize it had probably seen its last day.

Clem took the pill Christa had given her and put it in her mouth. She had never swallowed a pill before, only having chewable or liquid medicines. The size of the capsule made things difficult, seemingly choking Clem as she tried to swallow it. Eventually, the pill worked its way out of her throat and into her stomach. Although it paled in comparison to what else she had suffered this day, swallowing the antibiotic proved to be yet another miserable new experience for Clem.

Stepping back into the hall, Clementine wandered over to the handrail and looked down at the first floor. She couldn't see anyone, but she could hear Christa arguing with the others. She couldn't really focus on what they were saying, it just sounded like ambient noise to Clem. As her eyes drifted across the hall, she noticed the door to her room was slightly ajar. As she looked more closely, the door creaked open a bit more, revealing that the girl with glasses was watching her through the opening.

Her eyes locked with Clem's, much to Clem's surprise. She could see a clear sign of concern on Sarah's face, as well as what looked like an inkling of curiosity. Clementine looked at the older girl, unsure what to think. She was expecting her to say something, but instead, Sarah just smiled at Clementine. It was a strange sight, but not an unpleasant one. It was then Christa came marching upstairs, prompting the older girl to retreat back into Clementine's room.

"What they say?" asked Clem, not particularly interested in the answer.

"They said they'll deal with getting food and water while they're here, and they'll give us our guns back when they leave in a few days," reported an irritated Christa. "And here. That Nick guy found this when he went to check out the shed." Clem was surprised to see Christa holding her hat. "Shocked he didn't claim it as his own or something." Clementine eagerly took her hat back, only to find it was soaking wet. "You might want to wait for it to dry out before you put it back on."

"Yeah…" Clem was also disappointed to see how dirty it was. Covered in both blood stains and patches of mud.

"One other thing. Carlos refuses to move his daughter, so you'll need to stay in my room." Christa retrieved the first aid kit and led Clementine to the bedroom.

"Carlos also says we're not to talk about any of this in front of his kid." Christa sat down with Clementine and carefully grasped her arm. "He doesn't even want us mentioning the fact you're not my daughter in front of her." Clem flinched as Christa applied the alcohol soaked rag to her arm again. It didn't hurt nearly as much as before, but it still hurt. "And we can't say anything about what they did to you." Christa removed a bandage from the first aid box and started wrapping Clem's arm. "And especially not about what happened to Omid." Christa finished wrapping Clem's arm and hastily closed up the first aid box. Looking at Christa, Clem could see she was on the verge of tears. Looking away Clem noticed a pair of plates sitting beside Christa.

"What… what's that?" asked Clementine.

"Dinner." Christa slid one of the plates over to Clem. It had a piece of cooked fish on it and a fork. "Apparently, they will be feeding us." The anger in Christa's voice was overshadowed by her sorrow. Clementine looked down at the plate. She was very hungry, yet she didn't really feel like eating. Reluctantly she took the fork and started cutting into the fish.

"They…" Christa covered her face with her hand, trying to hide how distraught she had become. "They said they'll bury him in the morning." Clementine watched Christa try to hold back her tears, making choked little sobs in an attempt to swallow her sadness. She moved in close to Christa, who instinctively put her arm around the small girl. Christa held Clem close, who simply laid her head against the woman's pregnant belly. They ate their meals in quiet, then went to bed without a word between them.

The next morning, Pete did as he promised. He and Nick dug a grave for Omid and buried his body beside the back porch. Christa was barely able to control herself as she watched what was left of the man she loved be put to rest. She bounced back and forth between sobbing to herself and angrily staring at Nick, who seemed troubled by the funeral himself.

Clementine however couldn't find it in herself to cry. Seeing the man who had been so kind to her dragged into a shallow grave was a deeply saddening sight. Yet she didn't seem to have any tears left to spare even for someone she cared so much for. It was if she had used them all up already on all the other people she had already lost.

Finding it difficult to watch Omid be buried, Clem's eyes drifted skyward. It was a beautiful day. Sunny and not too cool. Clem could hear a few birds singing in the distance. There was a slight breeze blowing. The trees glistened from the fresh rain. And out of the corner of Clementine's eye, she spotted the girl in glasses, watching the whole thing through one of the cabin's windows.


	11. A House Divided

The last three days had felt like weeks for Clementine, being mostly trapped in a single room with nothing to do from dawn till dusk. What little she had before to pass the time was now kept in the same room as Sarah, and Clementine didn't dare ask her father for any of it back. Other than occasionally gazing out the window, she simply resigned herself to sleeping the hours away like Christa had been doing.

Christa herself had become incredibly quiet since Omid's burial, rarely saying more than a few words to Clementine, if anything at all. She almost never left her bed and Clem was even worried Christa would stop eating if she didn't bring her meals up to the bedroom.

Their new 'guests' had kept their word, providing Clem and Christa with enough to eat and drink each day. It was mostly fish, much like before, but the portions provided were a little greater than what Clem was used to and instead of just mushrooms there were roots and other bits of plants as well. It wasn't much, but since it was the only time Clem got to leave the bedroom, it was all she really looked forward to at the moment.

Rolling out of bed, Clem was greeted by the familiar sight of the morning sun pouring in through the window, as well as the sight of Christa's back as she lay in bed. As Clem put her shoes and hat on, she watched Christa for any sign of movement. She knew the loss of Omid had been devastating, but with each passing day Clementine was becoming more convinced that Christa never wanted to get out of bed again.

"Um…" spoke Clem in a quiet voice. "I'll get breakfast. Okay?"

"Don't forget your antibiotic," spoke a disinterested Christa. Clem moved over to the first aid kit and removed a pill from the bottle inside.

"Christa, what are we going to do when they leave?" Clem waited for an answer, but Christa said nothing. "I mean, do you still want to get things to bring back to the cabin? Or, should we just go somewhere else?" Again, Clem received no answer. "Christa, say something," pleaded Clementine.

"…should've stayed." Was all Clem could hear Christa say.

"What?" asked Clem.

"Nothing." Clem just sighed and stepped out into the hall. She was hoping she'd get used to taking pills, but once again she found herself struggling to swallow one. She was however starting to understand why her dad called things that annoyed him, a pill. As Clementine moved down the stairs she could hear a couple of familiar voices coming from the kitchen.

"Oh, fish again?" asked a disappointed Sarah.

"We're roughing it Sarah," spoke Pete. "Be grateful we have that."

"I am, it's just, I miss the meals we got back home."

"Sarah, I told you, we're going to a new home," explained Carlos. "Now eat your breakfast. You're a growing girl."

"I will." Clementine stepped into the kitchen, finding Carlos and Sarah eating while Pete and Nick fiddled with something that looked like a cone made out of sticks and strips of tree bark. Clem found her way to a couple of plates set out for her and Christa. As she reached for a fork she noticed Sarah was smiling at her from across the table.

"Hi," greeted Sarah in a friendly voice. "I'm—"

"Sarah, what did I tell you about talking to the cabin's owners?" asked Carlos.

"I was just saying hi," explained an apologetic Sarah.

"Clementine and her mother were very generous to let us stay here." Clementine had to stifle the urge to groan out loud in response to Carlos's blatant lie. "The least you can do is not bother them."

"Your name is Clementine?" asked Sarah.

"Sarah, what did I just say?"

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"Why don't you just take your breakfast up to your room?" suggested Carlos.

"Okay." Sarah picked up her plate and cup. "Bye, Clementine."

"Save some water to brush your teeth with," instructed Carlos.

"I will."

"I love you sweetheart," said Carlos.

"I love you too dad." After watching Sarah leave, Carlos pushed his plate aside and stood up.

"Hold up there doc," ordered Pete without looking up from whatever he was working on. "Don't you got an appointment to keep?"

"Her arm was fine yesterday," reminded Carlos.

"That was yesterday," answered Pete. "This is today."

"I doubt much has changed."

"Only one way to find out."

"Are you going to—"

"Carlos, you've got one damn job around here," lectured Pete. "If you'd shut up and do it already you'd be done right now."

Carlos groaned. "Let me see it." Clementine held out her left arm, allowing Carlos to hastily unwrap the bandage around it. Her arm was still sore, but it had been feeling a little better with each day.

"It seems to be healing fine, and there's still no sign of infection."

"Does that mean I don't need to take antibiotics anymore?"

"If it hasn't become infected by now, you should be fine." Carlos started wrapping the bandage back around the wound. "Just keep it clean and covered, and try not to use that arm for now. The stitches can probably come out in a week." Carlos headed for the door.

"Hold up," ordered Pete. "Clementine, you don't have any other pressing injuries you need him to look at do you?"

"You're not serious are you?" asked Carlos in disbelief.

"Actually, I do have a loose tooth," reported Clementine.

"Carlos?"

"I'm not a dentist."

"You're a doctor. That's close enough. Just give it a quick look." Carlos groaned and turned back to Clementine.

"Which one is it?" Clementine opened her mouth and pointed to one of her molars. "It looks like a baby tooth. I'm sure it'll be fine. Now, if there's nothing else—"

"Actually." Pete looked up at Carlos. "Nick said you took a gun off her when we first got here, so I'm wondering, where is it?"

"It's somewhere safe," answered Carlos in a defiant tone.

"You just decided to put it up for some reason? Without telling us?"

"You've got your gun." Carlos gestured to the revolver holstered on Pete's hip. "And since you made it clear you wouldn't lend it to me again, even to save my life, I thought it prudent to have one of my own."

"That ain't your gun," reminded Pete. "It's going back with them when we're done here."

"Then you'll find it then," reasoned Carlos.

"I'd like to find it now," asserted Pete. "Call me crazy, but I'd like to keep track of where all our guns are."

"And I'd like to know more about these supposed 'preparations' you made for me and my daughter." Pete and Carlos stared at one another, each offering the other a look of mutual distrust. "But then, I guess you and your nephew like to keep secrets." Carlos left the kitchen without another word.

"You didn't say anything to him, did you?" Pete asked Nick.

"No." Pete stared at Nick. "I didn't say shit to him. He's just being an asshole."

"No disagreement there," nodded Pete. "But do keep an eye on him. And if he suggests anything else crazy like before, have the sense to tell him off this time."

"God, you're never going to let me live that down," moaned Nick.

"I'm just saying, be ready if Carlos tries anything. That's all."

"Yeah, yeah, I will." Nick noticed Clem was staring at him from across the table. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Clementine looked down at her plate instead.

"You locked her in a shed while she was bleeding all over herself," reminded Pete. "Probably has some sore feelings over that."

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? I am." Nick's hostile tone undercut his apology, doing nothing to make Clem feel better.

"You also shot someone she knew," reminded Pete. "So I wouldn't count on her being comfortable around you anytime soon."

"It's not like I wanted to do that either. Hell, I even helped bury him." Nick's voice wavered as he recounted his actions. "You… you said it yourself, I did the right thing."

"I said you made the right call," clarified Pete. "That's not necessarily the same as the right thing."

"What's the difference?"

"The right call sometimes means you don't have the privilege of doing the right thing," explained Pete in a more somber voice.

"So I did the wrong thing," concluded Nick.

"I didn't say that. I—"

"You didn't have to." Nick stood up and left in a huff, leaving Pete alone with Clementine.

"Well, you managed to clear out the room." Clem sighed and picked up her plates. "Oh, sit down, will ya? Ain't no point in you leaving now."

"There's no point in me staying either," concluded Clementine.

"Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something."

"About what?"

"About the possibility of us staying here for a while."


	12. A Modest Proposal

Clementine scowled at Pete. Just the thought of staying any longer with the people who killed Omid and left her to suffer angered her to no end.

"Yeah, didn't think you'd be wild about that idea. I'd rather be talking to Christa about this, but seeing as you're always the one picking up her meals, I figured she feels less like talking than you."

"She won't even talk to me most of the time," reported a saddened Clementine.

"Yeah, I figured it was something like that." Pete sounded a little upset himself upon hearing that. "I know you don't want anything to do with us, but, if you're willing, we could at least leave you a little better off than you'd be if we left ya right now."

"How?" asked Clementine, utterly unconvinced.

"Look, you know what this is?" Pete gestured to the odd conical stick contraption lying on the table.

"No."

"It's a fish trap." Pete tugged on the inside of the device, revealing it was made of two cones, a smaller one placed inside a larger one. "You place some bait on the inside, fish swim through the hole, get stuck between the two halves, and you've got yourselves a meal. Easy."

"Can't they swim back out through the same hole?"

"Nope," smiled Pete. "Fish are stupid. They can't figure a way out unless it's obvious. I've got some other tricks I could show you and Carlos may be an asshole, but he is a good doctor. It'd take some doing, but I might be able to persuade him to help deliver Christa's baby, if that's what you wanted." Clementine thought about Pete's offer, unsure how to answer.

"Do Nick and Carlos want to help us, or is it just you?"

"Well, I can't speak for Carlos, although I could take an educated guess and say he probably doesn't. But I know Nick would. He's pretty shook up over shooting your man."

"He doesn't act like it," noted Clem.

"That's just how he is. When something starts bothering him he tends to get real uppity. Bad habit he picked up from that rotten bastard of a father of his, but believe me, he's a good boy at heart." Pete saw the doubt on Clementine's face and sighed. "Look, you wanna hate someone for what happened, hate me, not Nick."

"Why?" asked Clem. "You didn't shoot Omid."

"No, but I would've, and Nick only shot him because of what I said; I told him, you see someone taking aim at one of ours, don't hesitate."

"Does that mean you would have shot me when I aimed a gun at Nick?" Pete didn't answer, but his eyes carried a hint of regret. "Oh."

"I'd like to think I wouldn't just pull the trigger on a kid," Pete told himself. "But, I can't honestly say that I wouldn't anymore."

"So, you wouldn't have let them lock me in the shed, but you probably would have shot me before that."

Pete sighed. "Look, Clementine, I hate to tell you this, and I'm not saying it to scare you, but as bad you may think we are, there's far worse people than us out there, and they don't care how old you are. I know it's not fair, but kids don't really have the luxury of being kids anymore these days."

"I know," answered a downtrodden Clem.

"Yeah, I kinda thought you might." Pete took a breath. "I've been trying to tell Carlos that, about Sarah, but he won't have it. Hell, should have seen the conniption fit he threw when he had to leave her with me a few days ago. First big spill and that poor kid is going to pieces."

"She seems nice."

"Nice won't keep you alive," asserted Pete. "That's what I keep telling Nick. Although, considering that business with you and the shed, I'm starting to think maybe I've been telling him that a little too often lately."

"Then why don't you stop?"

"Because I want him to survive this," answered Pete in a more thoughtful tone. "He had it bad enough before, hate to think that it was all for nothing." Pete looked at Clementine. "And to be honest, I'm not too keen on just up and leaving you and Christa without knowing you'll be all right first."

"Why did you even come here?" asked Clem.

"Let's just say, we got sidetracked from our original plan," answered Pete. "I remember seeing this place from the freeway the first time me and Nick had to uproot ourselves. Figured it would be a good place to recuperate. Of course, I didn't know anyone was staying here at the time. Had I known what Carlos was going to pull, I would have just limped out here myself to meet you people."

"Why are you limping? What happened?"

"Wish I could say that's a long story, but it's not," mused Pete. "We were running, I tripped, smashed my damn knee on the asphalt."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, I know," grumbled Pete. "Feel like a fucking idiot. An old fucking idiot. Next thing you know, I'm gonna fall and break my damn hip. I know I was starting to get up there in the years, but goddamn, one stumble and suddenly every step hurts like hell."

"My arm hurt like hell. Oops."

"Oops?"

"I said a swear. Sorry."

"Hell? That hardly counts," smirked Pete. "You know, when I said kids can't be kids, there are a few perks that come with that. Least of which is not having to watch your language anymore."

"I don't know. My parents always told me nice people shouldn't talk like that."

"My pa always told me to never trust a man who doesn't swear."

"I'm not a man."

"Good point," conceded Pete. "But, you know, a little eloquent profanity can be pretty useful sometimes."

"How?"

"Well, take that nasty business with your arm getting sewed up for one. I've always found cussing up a storm helps to take the edge off of what pains ya."

"Really?" asked Clem.

"Yeah really. Should've heard me when I banged my damn knee before. It ain't no cure-all, but goddamn if it doesn't make things a little more manageable. Give it a try next time you find yourself really hurting."

"Okay."

"And a little precision swearing can really help make something stick when you're talking to someone particularly thickheaded, but only if you do it right."

"How do you swear right?"

"You gotta pick your moments. You swear every other word and people will just tune it out, but you drop it in at just the right time, and it'll really let them know you mean fucking business."

"Like, how you talk to Carlos?"

"Exactly," smiled Pete. "Although, I wouldn't recommend practicing on him."

"I won't." Clementine was afraid to even talk to Carlos, let alone swear at him.

"And lastly, it can feel pretty damn good to swear sometimes."

"It can?"

"Hell yeah. Just try it." Clementine felt apprehensive. She almost never swore, but she never had an adult telling her to swear either. In fact, they always told her not to. "I won't tell no one, go on."

Clementine smirked. "Shit." Odd as it was, Clementine did feel a little bit better now.

"There ya go," chuckled Pete. "If you're willing to put up with us, I could teach you a lot more than the finer points of swearing you know." Clementine sighed. "I'm guessing that's still a no."

"I don't know."

"Look, I won't act like what happened was nothing, but trust me, you never do yourself any favors when you hold a grudge. Although, It's easy for me to say that from where I'm sitting, I didn't lose someone close to me recently."

"I just don't think Christa would like it."

"Yeah, I reckon she wouldn't." Pete took a breath. "Well, I'm not going to insist. Or, at least not any more than I already have. Just, tell her what I said."

"I will." Clementine picked up the plate and headed for the door.

"Oh, one more thing," said Pete. "If she doesn't want us sticking around, then tell her if she's willing to help us with a little something, we could be ready to leave by tomorrow morning."

"Okay." Clementine took the extra plate back upstairs. She headed into the bedroom and walked around the bed. "Here." Clem offered the plate to Christa, who just looked at it for a moment before slowly taking it without a word. As Clem thought how to approach Christa about what Pete said, she spotted a wadded up piece of paper in the corner.

"What's this?" Clem reached down to pick up the paper.

"Someone slipped it under the door," recounted Christa in a bitter tone. "Probably Carlos's daughter. Guess she thinks this a goddamn game or something." Clementine uncrumpled the paper, noting her name had been written on the center of it. Flipping the page over, Clementine found a message. She had a little trouble reading cursive handwriting, but after studying it for a moment she understood enough to read 'I hope you feel better soon. Sincerely, Sarah.'

Clementine set the note down and looked at Christa, somewhat annoyed that she had thrown it away before Clem even had the chance to look at it. As she watched Christa set her plate down, Clem opened her mouth to speak.

"I was talking to Pete, and he said—"

"What?" snapped Christa. "I don't want you talking to these people Clementine. They're dangerous. You should know better than that by now." Clementine scowled at Christa.

"He was just saying," Clem tried to explain as calmly as possible. "He could help us before—"

"I think we've had enough of their help," snarled Christa.

"They're already here. If we just let them stay for a while then—"

"Then they'll never leave!"

Clementine sighed. "He also said if you help him with—"

"Help him?" exclaimed Christa in disbelief.

"He said if you help they'll leave tomorrow morning," stated Clementine as hastily as she could, hoping to avoid yet another interruption. This offer did little to curb Christa's anger, but it did give her pause. The woman thought to herself for a moment, then stepped out of bed.

"Might as well see what they want," groused Christa as she put her shoes on. "Not like I got anything better to do." Christa trudged downstairs, Clementine following right behind her. The pair could see Nick, Pete and Carlos in the living room. Nick and Pete were checking their rifles while Carlos was telling them something. As the pair reached the bottom step, Carlos turned towards the pair and scowled.

"What do you want?"


	13. Mutual Disinterest

"Clementine said there's something I can do to get you people out of my house faster?" informed Christa as she glared at her captors.

"Right," answered Pete. "Well the thing is, I want to make sure we got enough food and clean water to last us and them for at least a few days."

"For them?" asked Carlos. "Why—"

"That part ain't up for debate," stated Pete in a firm voice. "The thing is, we could get a lot more done today if there were more than two of us making the trip. So I was thinking, she could look after Sarah, and you—"

"Are you insane?" barked Carlos. "Leave her alone, with Sarah?"

"Don't worry," retorted Christa. "I won't lock her in a shed while you're gone."

"Come on Carlos," urged Pete. "You really think she'd try anything with Sarah?"

"She's not the one I have a problem with," stated Christa.

"No, it's us," said Carlos. "And you could use Sarah to get at me while I'm gone, or just ambush all of us when we get back. This is the exact reason I've been staying here while you two are gone, to make sure she or her girl doesn't try anything."

"He's got a point," noted Nick.

"You're taking his side?" griped Pete.

"I ain't taking sides," insisted Nick. "I'm just saying, leaving them alone isn't the best idea. If they wanted to get back at us, this would definitely be the time to do it."

"Exactly," said Carlos.

"Well if you're worried about that maybe you shouldn't have barged in here in the first place," snapped Christa.

"You see, this is exactly why I proposed this," spoke a weary Pete. "I figured you'd both be eager to get away from each other a day sooner."

"And you also think I'd want to leave my daughter with the very same people I want to be rid of?" asked Carlos.

"What if I went with you?" suggested Clementine.

"What!" exclaimed Christa. "No, absolutely not."

"I can get water and food," insisted Clem.

"I like that better than Pete's idea," said Carlos.

"Well too bad, because we're not doing that," stated Pete.

"Why? Because it's too dangerous?" mocked Clementine.

"Because physics," answered Pete. "I get you're a tough kid, but someone your size can't carry half as much as someone Carlos's size."

"And half of that even when you consider her arm." Clementine tried to say something, but couldn't think of a rebuttal. Instead, she just crossed her arms in disappointment.

"How bout this?" suggested Pete. "I was gonna leave a couple of fish traps for the pair of ya, so how bout you come with me?" Pete gestured to Christa. "I can show you how they work, and the two of us could carry enough back to eat. Nick, you and Carlos could carry the water back."

"And what, leave Sarah alone?" asked Carlos.

"Not alone." Pete looked over to Clementine.

"Me?" she asked.

"Her?" reiterated Carlos in a less friendly voice.

"She could keep Sarah company for the day while the rest of us are getting what we need. Christa would be with me, and Nick with you, so all of us got a reason to cooperate just long enough to make it to tomorrow morning. So unless you're willing to just bring Sarah with us—"

"No, she had a hard enough time just getting here," insisted Carlos. "Plus, we'd be leaving them alone to prepare for our return."

"So, it's either this or another day or two of putting up with each other," explained Pete.

"I'd rather get this over with," answered Christa.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for a pregnant woman to be carrying stuff that far?" asked Nick. "I mean—"

"Since when the hell did you care?" barked Christa.

"I was just asking, Jesus," answered Nick in a defensive tone.

"If it would get you people out of here faster I'd carry you all out on my damn back," assured Christa.

"So that's a yes, what about you?" Pete turned to Clementine.

"I can stay with Sarah," said Clem in a glum voice. "It's not like I can do anything else."

"Well Carlos?" Carlos seemed torn, struggling to come to a decision. "Look, you need to realize something, you're not just our doctor out here, you're an extra set of hands," explained Pete. "Nick and I can't do everything. So as long as you insist on Sarah staying behind, you're just gonna have to accept there will be times when we might have to leave her on her own for a little while. Letting her spend the day in a nice cabin with another kid seems like a pretty safe starting place for the both of you." Carlos groaned and turned to Clementine.

"If I do this, you swear not to hurt her?" asked Carlos.

"Why would I do that?" asked Clementine.

"Isn't hurting little girls more your thing?" mocked Christa.

"Sarah isn't like your girl," retorted Carlos. "She could never handle what she went through, Sarah could barely even stand hearing about just a fraction of it. When I say you don't hurt her, I mean you don't hurt her, in any way. You don't tell her what happened to you or why you're not with your parents or anything that could worry her. And you especially don't tell her what happened between us."

"God forbid she find out her father is a cold blooded asshole," said Christa.

"You want me to leave her here, then that's what I want," demanded Carlos. "You swear to me you won't hurt her?"

"I won't," assured Clementine.

"You swear?" repeated Carlos.

"I swear I won't hurt Sarah," declared Clem, annoyed she of all people was being asked to not hurt anyone.

"Any chance I can get you to promise the same for Clementine?" asked a scornful Christa.

"Enough," interjected Pete. "Let's get this over with so we can all move on with our lives."

"Let me just tell Sarah where I'm going." Carlos headed upstairs.

"Christa, you coming?" asked Pete as he and Nick went for the door.

"I just want to say goodbye to Clementine."

"All right, but keep it quick, we're burning daylight as it is." Pete and Nick left Christa alone with Clem.

"Come on Clem, give me a hug." Despite still being a little annoyed with Christa, a hug did sound appealing. Clem leaned in and reached her arms around Christa as far as she could. "Check under the back porch."

"What?"

"I saw Carlos stashing something there through the window a couple of days ago," whispered Christa. "Once we're all gone, check it out."

"But, what am I supposed to—" The sound of the upstairs door closing caught the pair's attention. Christa let go of Clementine as Carlos came down the stairs.

"I told her you'll be up in a minute," informed Carlos. "Don't forget what I said to you."

"What are we supposed to do while you're gone?" asked Clementine.

"I don't know, just… distract her. Whatever it takes to keep her busy until I get back." Carlos turned to Christa. "Are you coming?"

"Like I got a choice." The pair exchanged angry glances, then headed for the door. Clementine watched as they joined Nick and Pete and started marching into the forest. Clem closed the door as they disappeared from view, then headed for the back door. She stepped outside, moved off the porch and peered underneath. Even in the morning sun it was hard to see anything. She could probably crawl into the space, but then she realized Carlos couldn't, so whatever she was looking for wouldn't be that far under the porch.

Instead, Clem started feeling around for anything other than dirt. She wrapped her arm around the corner post to search under the steps where she couldn't see anything, but all she pulled back was a slightly dirtier hand then she started with. Not sure what she was looking for, Clem considered going back into the cabin. But figured she'd at least try the other side of the steps first.

Moving across the porch, Clem caught sight of Omid's grave. She paused briefly as she looked at the shallow mound of dirt, then hurried to the side of the steps, eager to get her task over with. She reached inside, expecting to find nothing, but her fingers briefly touched something smooth. Clem stretched out and found something cold and metal in her grip. She pulled her arm out and found a gun, her own gun no less.

Clem wondered to herself what to do with it. Her first instinct was just to keep it. It was hers after all, and Pete said they were giving it back when they leave. She'd just be taking it back early. But if Carlos placed it here, he might notice it missing when he came back for it. Clem wasn't sure what he would do after that, but knowing him, it probably would be something bad.

After a bit of thought, Clem decided to keep it for the time being. Reasoning if it was discovered missing, she could give it to Pete and he would likely protect her from Carlos. She also figured she could just deny having found it. Since Pete was looking for the same gun already, Carlos might suspect him instead of her.

Her small mission completed, Clem went back into the cabin and headed upstairs. Not wanting to greet Sarah with a gun in hand, Clem stopped in Christa's room first and hid it under the bed. After that, she moved back to the end of the hall. Clem knocked on the door before turning the knob and letting herself in. There she saw Sarah sitting on the bed, with her knees pulled up to her chest and a distressed expression on her face.


	14. Play Date

"Um, hi." Clementine approached the bed slowly, unsure what was bothering Sarah. "Are, are you okay?" Sarah didn't respond immediately, instead only noticing Clementine a few seconds after she introduced herself.

"Oh, hi," greeted Sarah in a nervous voice.

"Are you okay?" repeated Clem as she sat down next to Sarah.

"I… I just get… kinda nervous, when my dad isn't around," explained Sarah slowly. "That's all."

"He's coming back," reminded Clementine.

"I know," answered Sarah, her voice easing back into a more relaxed tone. "I just got kinda worried when he left, and when you didn't come right up, I guess I got scared." Sarah let go of her legs and just let them hang off the edge of the bed. "Now that you're here, I feel okay."

"Well, that's good," Clem assumed.

"I'm Sarah," she introduced.

"I know."

"Oh, right, duh, my dad said it right in front of you," remembered Sarah. "And your name is Clementine?"

"Yeah."

"That's a really pretty name."

"Thanks, I guess."

"It's great that you're here." Sarah smiled.

"It is?" shrugged Clementine.

"Yeah, I mean, do you know how long it's been since I saw another girl my age?"

"We're not the same age," noted Clem. "You're older than me."

"Well, yeah, but I just mean it's nice to meet another girl who's not a grown-up. It's hard being the only girl, you know?"

"Yeah, it is," agreed Clem.

"How old are you? I'm going to be fourteen in May."

"I guess I'm still nine."

"You guess?"

"We lost track of the days after we came out to the cabin. But it's still winter, so—"

"When's your birthday?"

"August twenty-ninth."

"You're almost nine and a half."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's almost March," informed Sarah. "There was this guy who always announced the date at where I lived before."

"Where did you live before?" asked Clem.

"It was just some warehouse a bunch of people were staying at," answered Sarah. "Not much ever happened. Most of the time it was kinda boring to be honest."

"Then why did you leave?"

"My dad told me it wasn't safe anymore, so, we left one day with Pete and Nick. It's really nice of you and your mom to let us stay here." Clem just sighed quietly in response. "And it's really sweet of you to let me stay in your room while we're here too."

"Yeah, well, we're just really nice people I guess," reasoned Clementine, annoyed at having to play along with such blatant lies.

"And since our stuff keeps getting mixed up, I've been setting aside everything that looks like yours." Sarah stepped off the bed and picked up something sitting next to the dresser. "I figured this had to be yours." Sarah offered Clementine a familiar looking backpack decorated with pink and yellow flowers.

"It is." Clementine was surprised to see it again. "Um, thanks."

"I put your books in there."

"You can keep them if you want," suggested Clem. "I've already read them."

"So have I."

"You read them before?"

"No, just in the last couple of days."

"You read both of them in a few days?"

"Yeah, there's not much else to do around here."

"So I guess you don't want them either."

"No, I'd love to keep them."

"Why? You already read them."

"You never reread your books?"

"No, why would I? You already know what's going to happen."

"Yeah, but it's still fun to read it again. And sometimes, you notice things you didn't the first time."

"Like what?"

"There was this one book where a wizard talks some people into going on an adventure to get some treasure. And it was a fun adventure, but when I reread it, I realized the wizard was just kinda using the treasure to get these people to help him do all these important things that made the world better, and it felt like a different story when I read it that time."

"Huh, I guess I never thought about it like that."

"Why don't you just keep them then? That way you can try it."

"Okay." Clementine eyed the dresser. "You haven't looked in there, have you?"

"My dad took some clothes out of it for you, but I haven't touched it." Clementine moved over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Her drawings and her radio were still there. "Did you need some more clothes?"

"No, it's just…" Clementine quickly stashed the drawings and the radio in her backpack. "There was just a couple of things in here I didn't want to lose." Clementine zipped up her backpack and returned to the bed.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know," shrugged Clementine.

"What do you normally do for fun?"

"I don't know," repeated Clem.

"You don't know?"

"I just… haven't done anything fun in a while I guess."

"Why? Is something bothering you?"

"No," denied Clementine.

"You sure? You looked really sad when I saw you this morning."

"I just…"

"You… you didn't know that person Nick and Pete were burying? Did you?" This question surprised Clementine. She wasn't sure what to say. In addition to Carlos's warning, just asking about this topic was clearly upsetting Sarah, and it didn't make Clementine feel any better either.

"No, I didn't know him," denied Clementine. "He was…"

"Was… was he one of the dead people?"

"Dead people?" asked Clementine. "You know about the walkers?"

"Is that what you call them?"

"Yeah, because they're dead, but they keep moving anyway."

"I usually heard people call them lurkers, because they're always waiting around to get people. Like monsters."

"Yeah. They do that too."

"So, was it one of them they buried?"

"Um… yeah. It was."

"Oh, okay." This answer didn't seem to satisfy Sarah. "Why were they burying him then?"

"Well… you know, it was, sad," reasoned Clem. "He was probably a really nice man, and then something happened to him and he became a dead person…" Clementine trailed off, finding herself struggling to keep her composure. "So, they figured they should at least bury him."

"That is sad." Clementine held her tongue, desperately suppressing the urge to tell Sarah how sad it really was. "But it was really nice of Nick and Pete to bury him."

"Yeah, sure," scoffed Clem.

"Is it true if a dead person bites you, you turn into one of them?" Clementine looked to Sarah. She had a curious look on her face, with a hint of fear in her eyes. Clem thought about what Carlos had told her, then answered.

"Yeah, it's true." Clementine reasoned Sarah already knew this, so she wasn't telling her anything she didn't know. Still, this answer clearly bothered the older girl.

"That's so scary," said Sarah in a hushed voice.

"Yeah… it is," answered a saddened Clem.

"Is that how they make more of them?"

"Actually, unless something happens to your brain, you come back as one of them no matter how you die," stated Clem in a detached tone.

"Really?" asked an unsettled Sarah.

"Yeah. It's going to happen to all of us."

"Don't say that."

"It will," stressed Clem. "It's just what happens now. It'll happen to me and you someday too."

"Don't say that," repeated an increasingly frightened Sarah.

"It's true," shrugged Clem.

"But you don't have to say it," rationalized Sarah. "My dad says if you can't do anything about something, then you should just not think about it. It'd be like, thinking about how the sun will explode someday."

"But the sun's not going to explode."

"Yes it will."

"No… no it won't," answered an uncertain Clem.

"Yes it will," repeated Sarah. "That's what happens to stars. They eventually burn out and explode."

"What… really?" Clementine found this revelation a little unnerving.

"Yeah. But it takes a super long time for it to happen."

"How long?"

"My dad said it's like a billion years."

"Oh." Clementine found that tidbit mildly comforting.

"It'll be really terrible for everyone living a billion years from now, but since we can't do anything about it, we should just try not to think about it."

"Kinda hard to not think about something when it's always bothering you."

"What's bothering you?" Clementine thought about Sarah's question.

"My arm," she answered. "It still kinda hurts. And I'm not supposed to use it either."

"Did that thing I bring you help at all?"

Just thinking about that night made Clementine flinch. "Yeah, it helped," she answered.

"Well that's good, because I got in a lot of trouble for that," said Sarah in humbled voice. "My dad was super mad at me for talking to you without telling him first."

"Really?" Clem found Carlos positively frightening when he was angry. She never imagined he acted like that to his own daughter. "What did he do?"

"He said he was really really disappointed in me and that he expects me to do better because he loves me."

"Really?" asked an underwhelmed Clementine.

"Yeah, he can be really strict sometimes." Despite sounding like an incredibly lenient punishment, Sarah appeared wracked with guilt from recounting her father's talk. "You said you wouldn't tell."

"I didn't tell," said Clem. "I just, kinda let it slip out that I saw you that night. I didn't mean to."

"Well, I guess it's okay if it was just an accident," reasoned Sarah. "And with the way your arm was, it was probably hard to think."

"It was."

"I heard you screaming that night and I… I thought you were dying," spoke Sarah in a hushed voice.

"Christa had to give me stitches."

"Is that your mom?"

"Yeah, Christa's my mom," lied Clem. "I wanted her to stop so bad she had to hold me in place for the last two stitches."

"I can't imagine how much that must have hurt."

"It hurt more than anything in my entire life."

"I'm so so sorry Clementine."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, I just feel really bad that happened to you." Looking at Sarah, Clem could see Sarah was bothered by what had happened. She didn't look frightened like when she saw the injury, but saddened by the news of Clem's suffering. "You could have asked my dad for help. He's a doctor." Clem rolled her eyes upon hearing that.

"Yeah, okay," mumbled Clem.

"But if there's anything I can do to help, you can ask me too," said Sarah. "I mean, I can't do a whole lot, but if you think of anything, just let me know."

"I don't think there's anything you can do for me today."

"Well, maybe you'll think of something tomorrow."

"But you won't be here tomorrow."

"I won't? Why not?"

"Because you're leaving tomorrow."

"I am?"

"Your dad didn't tell you?" Sarah shook her head. "Oh, I thought he did."

"I guess he forgot." Sarah seemed disappointed by this news. "It's too bad. I was kinda hoping we could be friends."

"Sorry," shrugged Clem.

"Well, if I'm leaving tomorrow, we should do something special today," reasoned Sarah, some enthusiasm returning to her voice.

"Like what?"

"Well, does that still work?" Sarah pointed to the camera on the dresser.

"I think so, but I never actually tried it."

"Let's try it right now." Sarah collected the camera from the dresser. "Try and take a picture of me. If it works, I can take one of you, and then we'll have something to remember each other by." Clem took the camera and aimed it at Sarah. "Cheese." Clem pushed the button. The camera's flash didn't go off, but it made a clicking sound followed by a whirring and then finally a photo slid out of the front of the camera. Sarah eagerly took the photo and watched it closely.

"Look, it's working." Clem examined the photo. She could see the outline of Sarah's image beginning to develop. "Okay, now I'll take yours." Sarah set the photo on the dresser and took the camera from Clementine. "Smile." Clem just sat there, waiting for Sarah to take the picture. "Come on, you gotta smile."

"I don't feel like smiling."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"What if I made you smile?" teased Sarah in a playful voice.

"You can't make me—" Clem suddenly found Sarah's fingers under her chin, tickling her. "Hey, don't!" Clem couldn't stop herself from chuckling as she tried to push Sarah's hand away. Sarah immediately honed in on Clem's armpit, tickling the girl even harder. "St—stop!" croaked Clementine between laughs. Sarah pulled her hand back and hastily snapped the picture.

"See?" smirked Sarah as she grabbed the photo. "Don't you—"

"Why'd you do that!" shouted Clementine.

"I… I was just trying to cheer you up," explained Sarah.

"I don't want you to cheer me up!" Clementine's words wounded Sarah, who looked away from Clem in shame.

"Oh… okay." The photo fell out of Sarah's hand and onto the floor. "I… I'll just leave you alone." Sarah turned away and set the camera on the dresser. "And, I'll just tell my dad we spent the day together, so we don't get in trouble."

Clementine looked down at the photo. It had developed enough where she could see the outline of her laughing with a wide grin on her face. Clem then looked up at Sarah, who was standing quietly in the corner with her backed turned, as if she was punishing herself for a mistake.

"I'm… I'm sorry," professed Clementine, her voice laced with guilt. "It's nice that you want to cheer me up. But… but you just can't. Okay?"

Sarah turned around. "Why not?" she asked.

"It's…" Clementine struggled to find the words, not because of what Carlos said, but because she simply found it hard to explain her situation. "It's just not the kind of thing where you can just cheer someone up. Okay?"

"Why? What happened?" Clementine could hear the concern in Sarah's voice, but she couldn't bring herself to answer the older girl, instead turning away. Thoughts of her parents, Lee, and now Omid started filling Clem's head. She felt a swell of emotion building in her as she couldn't stop thinking about all the people she ever lost.

"Clementine." Clem looked back to Sarah, who had taken a few steps closer. The older girl still looked concerned, but she also seemed calmer now than a minute ago. "If, something bad happened to you, but you don't want to talk about it, because it makes you feel bad, you can just tell me that. I'd understand." Clementine looked into the older girl's eyes and found a sincerity in her gaze that seemed to ease Clem's racing mind, if only slightly.

"You… you would?" stuttered Clem.

"Yeah." Sarah sat down next to Clem. "Is that what you want to do?" Clem nodded to Sarah. "Okay. I just won't ask you about things like that."

"Thanks Sarah."

"I'm sorry I upset you."

"It's not you," assured Clementine. "It's… just a lot of things."

"Yeah. Things are so much harder now." Clem looked over to Sarah, wondering if she had any idea just how hard it really could be. "I wish we could just go back to the way things were."

"I do too. But I don't think it'll ever happen." Clementine reached down and picked up the photo Sarah dropped. "But, you know, it's not always bad." Clementine handed it back to Sarah. "Sometimes, good things still happen." Sarah looked at the photo of Clem laughing.

"You're not mad?" asked Sarah.

"Not at you."

Sarah smiled, then pocketed the photo. "Does this mean you still want to spend time with me?"

Clementine smiled. "Sure. What do you want to do?"

"Well, why don't we play a game?" suggested Sarah. "How about hide and seek?"

"Aren't you kind of old to want to play that?"

"Am I?" asked Sarah, genuinely curious.

"I didn't think thirteen-year-olds liked to play hide and seek."

"Well, don't nine-year-olds like to play hide and seek?" Clem made a face, mildly annoyed at her own logic being turned against her. "Come on, there's not much else we can do. I mean, if you're afraid you're going to lose, I could—"

"I'm not afraid," interjected a defensive Clem.

"I just mean, if you didn't want to play against someone older, I'd understand."

"What does you being older matter?" asked Clem. "Being older doesn't help with hide and seek. In fact, me being smaller means I could hide better."

"Yeah, but I might be faster because I'm bigger."

"You don't know that."

"Does this mean you want to play?"

A determined expression crept across Clementine's face. "You hide first."


	15. Fun & Games

"What's home base?" asked Sarah.

"How about the couch in the living room? That's pretty much the middle of the house." Clementine and Sarah exchanged glances, then hastily moved towards the door. "And you got to hide in the cabin. No going outside," reasoned Clem as they descended the stairs .

"I'm not supposed to go outside anyway," said Sarah. "How long do I have to hide?"

"Until I count to ten."

"What? That's not enough time to find a good hiding spot."

"You'll just have to think fast," smirked Clem.

"Come on. It's more fun if you get more time, because then you can find a really good hiding spot. And it's more fun for the seeker too if you have to really look for someone." Clementine considered Sarah's argument. "How bout thirty?"

"Twenty," suggested Clem as a counter offer.

"Okay, but no counting fast. It's got to be one Mississippi, two Mississippi."

"Fine." Clementine sat down on the couch and covered her eyes.

"And no peeking. You—"

"One Mississippi." Clem's count was followed by a surprised yelp from Sarah and some very frantic footsteps. Clementine listened closely over her own counting, hearing Sarah run about the room in a panic. It was around ten Mississippi she heard Sarah running up the stairs. At sixteen the footsteps came to an abrupt stop. Clem smiled to herself as she neared twenty, already knowing Sarah was upstairs meant it would be all too easy to catch her.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Clementine hopped off the couch and moved to the stairs. She took great care in ascending the steps, not wanting to alert Sarah to her presence prematurely. As she reached the top she noticed the door to the spare room was wide open. Clem crept along with great care, ready to pounce. She stopped just outside the threshold and prepared to strike.

Clementine charged into the room, ready to tag Sarah. But much to her disappointment the room was empty, except the chair Pete broke and a now boarded up window. Clem turned around just in time to see the door slam in her face. Too late she realized Sarah was hiding on the other side of the open door.

Clem pushed the door open and ran outside. Sarah was already flying down the stairs as Clem ran after her. By the time Clem reached the staircase, Sarah had already leapt over the handrail to skip the last few steps and threw herself onto the couch in a triumphant belly flop.

"Safe!" announced Sarah as Clem reached the bottom of the steps.

"Shit," swore the defeated nine-year-old.

"Clementine!"

"Oops."

"You shouldn't say that."

Clementine felt guilty about what she said, but only briefly. "Why not?" asked Clem.

"What?" answered a confused Sarah.

"Why can't I say shit?" challenged Clem, smirking as she did so.

"Because, my dad says people who use words like that don't have anything worth saying."

Clementine pondered this characterization and, after a swift internal deliberation, decided on a response. "Bullshit." The girl giggled as Sarah looked at her in a disapproving manner.

"Little girls shouldn't talk like that," lectured an annoyed Sarah.

"It's just a word, isn't it? It's not hurting anyone," reasoned Clem. "You could say shit too if you wanted."

"I don't want to," insisted Sarah.

"You sure?" teased Clementine. "It's fun."

"I was already having fun," said Sarah. "Come on. It's your turn to hide." Sarah took off her glasses, covered her eyes and started counting. Clem slowly started moving upstairs, taking great care not to make the same mistake Sarah did earlier.

Reaching the upstairs with a little over ten seconds to go, Clem moved down the hall to enact her plan. She opened the door to Christa's bedroom as wide as it would go, then backtracked to the spare room and carefully cracked the door. She moved over to the railing and watched as Sarah finished counting. Clem was ready to hurry downstairs if Sarah moved too far from the couch. If she came up, Clem could fall back into the spare room while the open bedroom door would distract Sarah.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Sarah sprung off the couch and immediately charged over to the closet under the stairs. She hastily searched it and then raced into the kitchen. Clem saw her opportunity. She quickly but quietly moved to the stairs. Clem was ready to race down, when she spotted Sarah charging back into the living room. Clem froze, watching for her opponent's next move. Sarah turned towards the stairs and Clem realized it was time to fall back. She moved to the spare room and slipped inside as quietly as she could, gently pushing the door closed once inside.

Clem could hear Sarah moving outside the door. She wasn't sure if she had been spotted or not so Clem listened closely, ready to try to evade Sarah if she entered the room. Slowly the footsteps moved past the door and further down the hall. Clem pressed her ear against the door to hear Sarah's movements. She seemed to be moving more cautiously now, making it hard to tell where she was.

Clem waited patiently for more signs of movement, but she didn't hear anything. Was Sarah waiting on her, or was she checking one of the other rooms? After a lot of silence, Clem became impatient and decided to make a move. She very carefully cracked the door and peered outside. Before Clem could survey her surroundings, the door swung out from behind her. Clem spun around and found a gun pointed at her head.

"Bang! You're dead." Sarah tagged a shocked Clementine with her free hand. "I got you. That's—"

"What are you doing with that?" a frightened Clem demanded to know.

"I found it in the other room," explained Sarah in a hasty manner, sensing Clem's distress. "I just thought—"

"You could have killed me!" exclaimed Clementine.

"No, I wouldn't do that," insisted a penitent Sarah. "I was just playing. I wasn't going to pull the trigger."

"You could have done it by accident!" This revelation seemed to shock Sarah, who went wide-eyed upon receiving the news. Clementine put her hands on the gun and carefully removed it from Sarah's grip, which offered no resistance.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I… I…" Sarah hastily sat down on the floor. Clem watched as she pulled her knees up to her chest. "I… I…"

"Sarah?" said Clem, no longer angry.

"I… I should have listened to my dad," rambled a distraught Sarah. "He told me… he told me if I ever saw a gun… that I should never touch it. And I didn't listen to him." Sarah turned to Clementine. "You… you're not going to tell him are you?" asked Sarah in a meek voice. "I mean, I know it was really really bad what I just did, but I don't want to disappoint him again so soon after the last time." Sarah's request made Clementine realize it would be bad for herself if Sarah mentioned the gun to anyone.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Clementine, making an effort to not sound judgmental. "But I won't tell anyone if you don't."

"You'd do that for me?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah. I mean, last time you got in trouble, it was because you helped me. So, I kinda owe you one."

"I… I really don't like keeping things from my dad," admitted a conflicted Sarah. "Maybe I should just tell him the truth."

"Wait," instructed Clem. "You don't want to get in trouble, do you?"

"No, but, that was really bad, so—"

"Well, you know what you did was wrong right?" Sarah nodded at Clem. "So you already know not to do it again, and no one got hurt, so, you don't need to get in trouble." Sarah pondered Clem's rationale. "Nothing bad happened, so, let's just not tell him about it. We'll just pretend like it never happened, like, you never even found a gun."

"I guess that makes sense," said Sarah. "And, you'd forgive me for what I did?"

"Like I said, let's just not talk about," emphasized Clem.

"I'm so sorry," sobbed Sarah. "I won't ever touch a gun ever again."

"Well, it's not that you should never touch guns. It's just…" Clementine looked at the gun, wondering how to explain it. "Don't be afraid of it. It's just a thing."

"What does that mean?" asked Sarah.

"I… I don't know," admitted Clem. "I just mean, you gotta be more careful with it."

"Have you ever shot a gun?" asked Sarah, more curious than scared now.

"Yeah. I have."

"Wow," awed Sarah. "Well, maybe you could teach me how to use a gun then."

"Why?" asked Clementine.

"So if I ever find another one, I'll know what to do, and I won't do something wrong again like today." Clementine didn't know how to answer that request, concerned she had already told Sarah enough to upset Carlos as it was. "I wouldn't tell my dad about it. I know he wouldn't like it, and I hate keeping things from him, but, I'd hate it a lot more if I… killed someone by accident."

"Even if you did everything right with a gun, someone could still die." Clementine looked at her pistol. "It just wouldn't be an accident then."

"Oh." The implications of what Clem said caused Sarah to take pause. "Maybe, we could just skip those parts?"

"I don't think it works like that." Clementine stood up. "I'm just gonna put the gun up. Okay?"

"Yeah, that's probably for the best," realized Sarah. "I'll just forget about it, like you said." Clem felt a little guilty upon hearing that, as if she had denied Sarah something important, but she wasn't sure what else she could do. Clementine headed for the bedroom, ready to stash the gun back under the bed. She was about to set it down, when it dawned on her one person had already found the gun here.

Clem stood up, wondering where best to hide something she didn't want to lose again, then it hit her. Clem took off her backpack and placed the gun inside. Now she'd always know where it was. She was about to zip up her pack, when she noticed the end table by the window. The note Sarah had written her was still there from earlier. Reading it again, Clementine felt a little better. She picked up the note and placed it in her pack with the drawings.

As Clem moved to put her backpack on, she noticed something odd from the window. She could see someone in the distance running out of the forest and towards the cabin. At first she thought it was Nick, but as the person grew closer Clem could see it was a woman, and it wasn't Christa, and she was carrying a shotgun.

"Oh no." Clem instinctively retrieved her gun and hastily put her pack on. She hurried back into the hall where Sarah was waiting, who noticed the gun in Clem's hand.

"I thought you said—" Clem made a shushing motion as she approached. "What's happening?" whispered Sarah.

"Someone's coming," whispered Clem. "Listen, we—" A loud bang sounded from downstairs. Clem and Sarah peered over the railing and saw a young man with blonde hair enter the living room with a gun drawn. He methodically searched the area with great speed. Clem pulled away from the rail and started moving down the hall, when she noticed Sarah was still standing by the railing, petrified.

"Hey." Clem grabbed Sarah's hand, which seemed to bring the older girl back to her senses. "Come on." Sarah nodded slightly in response to Clem's whispering. With Sarah in hand, Clem led them both to the bathroom as quietly as possible. She closed the door and went right to the window. Sarah was taller, but Clem figured she could still fit. But as Clem opened the window, the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs caught the pair's attention.

More than one person was moving upstairs quickly, too quickly for both Clem and Sarah to bother with the trickery of jumping onto the back porch and climbing down the lattice. Clem aimed her gun at the door, unsure if she could shoot two people before they shot her. Looking at Sarah, it dawned on Clem that if she shot at these people, they might kill Sarah if they shot back. As the footsteps grew louder, Sarah covered her mouth with her hands, trying not to make any noise. Clem could see the absolute terror in the older girl's eyes, but she also noticed something else.

Just behind Sarah was the linen closet. Not wanting to waste another second, Clem quickly shut the window, opened the closet and motioned for Sarah to follow. The pair ducked down under the lowest shelf and Clem carefully closed the closet door from inside just as the bathroom door creaked open. Clementine watched through the narrow crack in the doors as she saw someone enter the room.

She could only see their legs, but she watched as they moved cautiously around the window, before heading towards the bathtub. She heard the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back. Panic gripped Clem as she watched this person approach the closet. She raised her gun, hoping she was ready for what came next.

"Byron!" called a woman's voice from across the hall. "Get your ass in here!" Clem watched in relief as she the saw the legs move away from the closet.

"Keep your voice down," responded a man in a hushed tone. "Someone might still be here." Clem left the closet and immediately moved to the window.

"Fuck that, look at this," spoke a woman as Clem opened the window and gestured to Sarah. "Recognize her?" Sarah hurried to Clem's side.

"Um, no. Should I?" Clementine motioned to the back porch, cluing Sarah into her plan.

"That's Carlos's daughter." Both girls found themselves stunned by the woman in the next room's announcement.

"I never met Carlos's daughter." Clem tugged on Sarah's sleeve, bringing her back to her senses.

"I did. I saw her get into it with Gertrude's brat at Thanksgiving." Clem climbed out onto the window sill and hopped over to the back porch.

"You sure?" With great difficulty, Sarah climbed out onto the window sill.

"Fucking positive. It's her picture." Sarah struggled to find the courage to cross the gap to the back porch, having trouble looking away from the long drop just beneath her.

"George was right. They've been here." Clementine moved to the edge of the porch roof and stretched out her hand towards Sarah, waving it in hopes of getting the older girl's attention.

"They might still be here. They could be on their way back here right now." Sarah spotted Clementine and reached out across the gap, grasping Clem's hand.

"Call George. I'll start tossing the house." Clem tugged on Sarah's arm, which finally seemed to prompt her to make the jump. Clem headed for the edge and started climbing down the lattice siding. Sarah followed in kind and the pair reached the ground in short time.

The two girls started moving towards the forest at a brisk pace, instinctively increasing speed as they drew closer to cover. As they crossed past the first few trees on the edge of the clearing they both took off running, trying to put as much distance between them and the cabin as possible.

Clementine struggled to breathe as she ran as fast as she possibly could. She couldn't remember the last time she had to go this fast. Even after the dog bite, her injury prevented her from pushing herself to move this quickly. And yet Clementine couldn't keep up with Sarah, who was hastily pulling away from her with every step. Even with her heart pounding against the side of her chest, Clem couldn't hope to match the older girl's frenzied pace.

Clem was about to call out to her when the tip of her foot connected with a tree root and sent her tumbling across the dirt. The spill disoriented Clem, who felt dizzy as she sat up. As her head stopped spinning, she noticed her gun sitting on the ground a few feet away. Clem crawled over to it and grabbed it. As she looked up she didn't see Sarah ahead of her anymore. A sense of dread crept up Clementine's spine as it seemed she was alone now, but it was quickly dashed by frantic footsteps approaching her from behind.

"Come on." Sarah grabbed Clementine's free hand before she could even respond and pulled the small girl to her feet. Sarah took off running again, actually dragging Clem behind her, who found herself being forced to run faster than she normally could. Her legs were moving so fast now she felt like she couldn't stop anymore, her chest ached from breathing so hard and Sarah pulling on her bandaged arm was becoming painful.

"Sarah! Stop!" Sarah came to an abrupt halt while Clementine found herself being forced to stumble forward by the sheer momentum she was carrying. After a few awkward feet of desperately trying not to fall over, Clem managed to regain her footing. Finally at rest, Clem gasped for air, her every breath a deep one.

"Wuh… wuh… what happened?" stammered Sarah. "Wuh… whatta we do?" Clem tried to answer Sarah, but still could only manage to wheeze for air. "Wuh… where… where are we?" Sarah nervously surveyed her surroundings, finding only trees in every direction. "We're… we're lost."


	16. The Best Laid Plans

Clementine watched as a terrified Sarah slid down the trunk of the tree she was leaning against. She was trembling with fear as she pulled her knees up to her chest, taking one deep panicked breath after another.

"Sarah…" croaked Clementine, struggling to breathe herself.

"We're lost and… and… alone… and… and…"

"Sarah," said Clem, finally able to breathe normally. "It'll be okay."

"Da… da… daddy," whimpered Sarah, oblivious to Clementine.

"Sarah?" The older girl didn't answer, transfixed by their predicament. "Sarah!" Clem knelt down to look Sarah in the eyes. "Listen to me. It'll be okay."

"But… how?" Clem tried to think of an answer. "We're… we're going to die." Sarah started crying.

"We're not going to die." Clem's answer did nothing to placate Sarah, who kept sobbing to herself. Clementine looked around, nervous that someone would hear them. But all she could see were trees in every direction. They really were lost. Clem herself started to feel frightened, realizing there wasn't much she could do. She looked down at the ground, hoping Sarah wouldn't see that she was upset as well. As Clem tried to hold back the sense of terror that was overtaking her, she noticed her own shadow.

"Sarah," said Clem, trying to remain calm. "We're not going to die. We'll find your dad, and the others."

"But, we don't know where they are," sniveled Sarah.

"I do."

Sarah looked up in surprise. "You… you do?"

"They went to the stream," reminded Clem. "That's north of the cabin. It's still morning, so north is that way." Clementine gestured to the right. "If we just keep going that way, we'll find the stream."

"But, what if they're not there?" asked Sarah.

"Well…"

"Or we run into those people. Or they come back to cabin, and those people—"

"Sarah," interrupted Clementine. "Just, don't think about that. Like your dad told you. Okay?"

"I… I can't," confessed a tearful Sarah. "I'm trying, but all I can think of…" Sarah trailed off, seemingly moments away from another breakdown. Clem thought to herself, trying to think of anything she could say that would help.

"My dad…" Just thinking about her father pained Clem enough to hesitate. "He told me, when something seems impossible, try to find one thing that you know you can do, and just do it instead." Clem put her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "We can get to the stream. It's not that hard. All you have to do is walk for a while. You can do that, right?"

"I guess," answered an uncertain Sarah. "But what if—"

"Just focus on getting up and walking with me," repeated Clementine in a calm voice. "You can do that. Just, stand up. Okay?" Sarah looked at Clem for a moment, then slowly rose to a stand.

"I'm just… I'm so scared," admitted Sarah. "I don't think I've ever been this scared before. Are you scared?"

"I'm scared too," admitted Clem. "But we got to be strong."

"I'll… I'll try."

"If you have to think about something, try to think about something good. Like…"

"My dad?" Not what Clem would think of, but looking at Sarah's face, it clearly helped her find some comfort. "Yeah, think about seeing him again." This suggestion almost got Sarah to smile. "Let's go. It's a long walk."

The pair started walking. First west for a short time; Clem wanted to make sure they avoided passing by the cabin in case their intruders were still waiting on them. Then they began moving north as planned. It was a long walk, longer than Clementine remembered it being a few days ago, but they pressed on.

Sarah would occasionally ask Clem how far they had to go, and all Clem could tell her is they would probably make it there before midway. Other than that, the two didn't speak. Sarah too nervous to carry on a conversation and Clem too preoccupied with their current predicament.

Despite what she told Sarah, Clem herself was finding it hard to not think about what they would do if they didn't reunite with the others. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, it felt more unlikely they'd ever find the stream, or anything other than more trees. The idea of she and Sarah being stranded ate away at Clem with every passing step. She couldn't even begin to comprehend what they would do if left on their own.

Sometime before noon, the pair was greeted by the distant sound of rushing water. Both girls started running, eager to finally see some sign of hope. A short jog delivered them in front of a small stream. Clementine wasn't sure if it was the same one she saw before. It looked familiar, but she hadn't seen many streams before, so she couldn't be sure.

"We made it," concluded Sarah, surprised at their success.

"Yeah," concurred Clementine, not wanting to express her doubts.

"But, where's my dad?" The girls scanned the area for any signs of their missing companions. They looked up and down stream for any recent signs of activity, but found nothing. "He's not here," said Sarah in a desperate voice. "None of them are."

"Um… we had to go west for a little while," remembered Clem. "Since they came straight from the cabin, they must be east of here."

"Are you sure?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah," assured Clem, uncertain herself. "Come on." It was still morning, so the pair followed the stream in the direction of the rising sun. Clem and Sarah both kept a close eye on the horizon, hoping to see anyone come into view. Even more the idea of being alone haunted Clem, weighing heavier in her mind as the sun crawled higher into the sky.

As they were walking along, Clem's shoe banged into a rock sitting next to the stream. Looking down, she saw there were several rocks arranged around a small hole dug into the ground. Clem recognized it as the same hole Omid had used to hold his fishing rod in place. They were definitely at the right stream, and probably the right place, but nobody was around. Clem sighed and looked up at Sarah, who was a few feet ahead looking off in the distance.

"Sarah." Clem paused, trying to think of what to say to her. "I…"

"I think I see someone," reported Sarah.

"Really?" Clem sprung to Sarah's side. "Where?"

"Way off in the distance." Sarah pointed downstream. "Do you see it? I think that's a couple of people." Clem could just barely see what seemed to be a few specks moving back and forth.

"It's hard to tell."

"It's gotta be dad and the others," insisted an eager Sarah.

"Maybe. But it could be—"

"Let's hurry." Sarah ran ahead of Clem. "Dad! Dad!" called a desperate Sarah at the top of her lungs.

"Sarah, no!" Clem ran after the older girl. "Wait, stop!" Sarah didn't heed Clem's warning. She watched as the two figures turned towards Sarah as she called for her father again. They definitely looked like people, but who they were was impossible to tell from the distance. Sarah kept yelling for her father as she pulled further ahead of Clem, who couldn't keep up with the older girl. As the figures grew closer, she could see one was moving towards them. Clem stopped and looked at her gun, thinking she might need it soon.

"Sarah!" Clementine recognized that voice, it was Carlos, and probably the first time she was ever happy to hear it. They had found the others. Clem was ready to run over to them, when she realized she was still holding her gun. Clem took off backpack and stashed the gun. Then she started running after Sarah, who was far ahead of Clem at this point.

"Daddy!" Clem watched as Sarah flung herself into her father's arms. "I was so scared!"

"Don't be scared sweetheart," assured Carlos in a calm voice. "I'll keep you safe." As Clem neared the pair, she could see Carlos holding Sarah tightly and rubbing his hand up and down her back. "It's okay sweetheart, everything's okay."

"I thought I'd never see you again," professed Sarah.

"I'm right here Sarah," reassured Carlos. "Don't cry. I'm right here." Clem couldn't help but feel envious as she watched Sarah be comforted by her father. This feeling faded when Clementine noticed Carlos was angrily looking at her. She watched in fear as Carlos let go of his daughter and approached the younger girl.

"What are you doing here?" asked Carlos through clenched teeth.

"People broke into the cabin," reported a still emotional Sarah.

"What? Who?"

"A woman and a man with a gun," answered Sarah. "It was so scary, but Clementine took care of me."

"She, took care of you?" repeated Carlos in disbelief.

"Clementine got us out of the cabin before they found us. And when I didn't know what to do, she said we should go to the stream to find you."

"Did she?" Sarah nodded at her father. Clem watched nervously as Carlos approached her. He stretched out his hand and placed it on the small girl's shoulder.

"Thank you." Carlos's touch made Clementine feel uncomfortable, but his gratitude felt genuine. He had gone from being angry to looking like he was almost ready to cry.

"So it was them," commented Nick as he approached the group.

"Clementine!" Christa rushed to Clem, pulling her away from Carlos. "Are you okay?" Christa turned to Carlos. "What were you doing to her just now?"

"I just wanted to thank her," answered Carlos in an oddly sentimental tone.

"Thank her?"

"She… she saved me," stuttered a nervous Sarah.

"What the hell is this?" Pete limped over to the group and immediately spotted Sarah and Clementine. "All right, who wants to explain?"

"Sarah says people came to the cabin," reported Carlos.

"What? Again?" Christa turned to Clementine. "Did they hurt you?"

"They had guns," informed Clem. "So we snuck out before they found us."

"Oh fuck, it's them. It's gotta be," rambled Nick in a panicked voice.

"You said they wouldn't follow us!" bellowed Carlos.

"Who the hell are they?" asked Christa. "Just who the fuck are you people?"

"Now just hold on." Pete looked to Clementine and Sarah. "Girls, what can you tell us about these people? What'd they look like? Did they say anything to each other?"

"One of them was called Byron," reported Sarah. "And he said they should call someone named George." Carlos, Pete and Nick all went wide-eyed with fright upon hearing that name.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," chanted Nick in a shaken voice.

"I guess Bill couldn't rein him in this time." Pete rubbed his forehead.

"Now what do we do?" asked Carlos.

"Maybe… maybe we can use this," reasoned Pete. "You two said, they didn't see you right? For all they know, that was just an empty cabin in the woods. They might not be expecting—"

"Actually," interrupted Sarah. "One of them saw a picture of me. Dad, the woman said she knew I was your daughter."

"Picture?" asked Carlos. "Where did they get a picture of you?"

"I took it," answered Clementine.

"You what?" snarled Carlos. "Do you have any idea—"

"It's not her fault," confessed a frightened Sarah. "I asked her to do it. I'm… I'm sorry." Sarah clung to her father and started sobbing again.

"Doesn't matter who took it. If they saw that and one of them recognized you, they know we've been through here," realized Pete. "And they'll be waiting for us to come back, and it'll be more than just two of them by now. We gotta move, and quickly."

"But to where?" asked Carlos. "We only went to the cabin because you said it was too dangerous to go forward with your plan. That they'd be waiting for us. Now you say they're waiting for us there."

"We're just gonna have to find another way," asserted Pete.

"Where?" asked Nick, clearly scared out of his wits. "Where the hell are we going to go?"

"I'm working on that," answered an irritated Pete. "So unless you got a suggestion, why don't you just sit down and shut up for a while?"

"What about the bridge?" suggested Clementine.

"Bridge?" asked Pete.

"Clem," warned Christa in a harsh tone.

"You said there's supposed to be a bridge north of here," reminded Clem. "Right?"

"Is that true?" Christa answered Pete with only a scornful look. "Look, we ain't got time for this. North it is."

"Are you serious?" asked Nick. "You're just—"

"You got a better idea?" said Pete. "We sure as hell ain't going back east right now and the cabin's south of here. We go west we'll hit the river and just have to move along it looking for a place to cross. Might as well try north." Pete turned to Christa. "Of course, it would be helpful if we knew where it went."

"I don't know where it goes," grumbled Christa. "I've never even seen it! If you people hadn't shot—"

"Enough!" ordered Carlos as he covered Sarah's ears.

"Carlos, why don't you just take Sarah aside for a minute," suggested Pete. "Get her some water while I talk to them."

"Come on sweetheart." Carlos guided Sarah away from the group. "You must be thirsty." Sarah briefly looked back at Clementine before Carlos led her upstream.

"Just who the hell are you people?" asked Christa. "What have you gotten us into?"

"We don't have time to explain," retorted Pete. "So—"

"Make time," insisted Christa. "Because so far, things have gone from bad to worse because of you people and I'm sick and tired of you telling us what to do."

"Look, long story short, we use to belong to a much bigger group of people, and we didn't like how things were run, so we left," explained Pete.

"And who's George?" Pete and Nick exchanged nervous glances.

"He's bad news," answered a weary Pete. "Let's leave it at that."

"So are you people," stated Christa. "Just give us our share of the food and water, our guns, and me and her are going our own way."

"We are?" asked Clementine.

"You can take as much food and water as you can carry, but we're hanging onto your rifle for the time being," informed Pete

"You said—"

"That was when we were going to leave you with what you had," rationalized Pete. "I'd like to be wrong, but now I can't help but think you're gonna stick us up the second we hand you your rifle back, if not just shoot us in the back."

"I'm not the one who killed someone!" shouted Christa.

"No, but you sure as hell seem ready to start though," noted Pete.

"You son of a—"

"Listen," dictated Pete. "Before we came out to the sticks, I set aside some essentials for my people. I only planned on four, but, we could probably take on two more."

"Wait, you're not seriously thinking about taking them with us?" asked Nick.

"I already told you once, I left that godforsaken place to get away from shit like leaving kids to die," reminded Pete. "I'm sure as hell not just gonna turn around and hand them another one, let alone a woman with a baby on the way."

"And what makes you think we even want to come with you?" retorted Christa.

"I wanna come," interjected Clem.

"Your alternative is to wander the woods unarmed with a wounded little girl, which is your choice. Like hell if I'm forcing you to come with us after what's happened. But you come with us, you'll have us collecting supplies and you'll have protection."

"I'd rather take my chances going back to cabin," answered Christa.

"I don't," interjected Clem in a louder voice, who was growing tired of being ignored.

"For all we know, these people are after you because you're thieving killers," accused Christa.

"Whatever you think of us, believe me, these people are worse," affirmed Pete in a certain tone. "They'll have already taken anything of worth from that cabin by now, and they won't care that she's a kid or you're pregnant. All they care about is what they can get out of you, and if that's nothing, then they'll get rid of you."

"Christa," spoke Clem. "Let's just stay with them, just for now." Christa looked at Clementine, clearly unhappy with that suggestion.

"Think about it, her arm's not even better yet. You really want to be roaming around out there with her like that?" Christa didn't answer Pete. "Look, the way I see it, you've already been dragged into our problems, you might as well stick around long enough to get something out of it."

"You fucking people," mumbled Christa. "It's not bad enough you killed Omid, you want to drag me and her down too."

"I'm trying to keep you alive," insisted an irate Pete. "Now what's it gonna be?"

"Like we really have a choice."

"I'll take that as a yes," assumed Pete. "Go get good and hydrated, because we've got a lot of walking ahead of us. I want to put some distance between us and them before sundown."


	17. Strange Bedfellows

Moving through the forest went slowly. Christa struggled to maintain a good pace, and as the day moved on, Pete's leg seemed to bother him more with every step, despite his insistence it wasn't. Every wayward noise also caused the group to stop for a while, paranoid of an imminent attack.

As they pushed deeper into the woods, Clem kept expecting to find the body of the dog that bit her. She wasn't sure why she wanted to see it again, but she did. Maybe just to prove to Carlos she wasn't lying, although the fact that she was still alive already proved that. Really, it may have just been because she had trouble believing what happened herself.

They didn't find the dog's body, or any sign of the people who attacked them, but eventually they did find a river. It was too big to simply wade across, so the group kept moving northeast, following the river deeper into the forest as the sun began to set.

"That's it," panted Christa. "I need to stop."

"Again?" asked an irritated Carlos.

"Yes, again," hissed Christa as she sat down.

"Dad, she's pregnant," reminded a concerned Sarah. "This is probably super hard for her."

"Of course," said Carlos with a forced sense of sympathy. "How could I forget?"

"We might as well call it a day." Pete limped over to a tree. "We're not going to make much more ground before sunset at this rate, and we're all hungry and could use the rest. We already found the river, so if we get an early start tomorrow we can follow it to this bridge, see if we can get our bearings from there."

"That's assuming it exists, or we haven't already gone past it," commented Nick.

Clementine sat down, very tired herself. She hadn't spent this much time walking since before coming to the cabin. It was an odd sensation, being on the move again. She had spent so long in the same place she almost forgot what it was like. The uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring, the tedious marching occasionally broken by bursts of fear when danger felt close. It all was just making her nostalgic for her quiet little room at the cabin.

"Nick, get a fire going," ordered Pete as he unpacked the fish they had wrapped up earlier. "Get started on dinner, and be quick because the fire needs to be out by dark. I don't want to give them any clues to where we are." Pete took a knife and gutted one of the fish. "I'm gonna set our traps, so we'll hopefully have something to eat for tomorrow." Pete scooped up the fish guts and started feeding them into one of the traps he was carrying.

"You sure you don't want me to do that?" Nick couldn't help but stare at Pete's bloody bandage.

"It's just a scraped knee, I ain't crippled," stated an angry Pete when he saw what Nick was looking at. "Why don't you just do what you're told and let me work."

"I just figured you could use a break," reasoned Nick.

"We're already on a break," reminded an irate Pete as he collected his traps. "So why don't you get a damn fire going already so we got something to eat before it gets dark?"

"Fine, go fuck up your other leg, see if I care." Clementine watched as Pete stormed off towards the riverbank. Nick stared angrily at Pete as he left before collecting wood and kindling. Sarah was talking with her father, leaving Clementine with Christa, who was lying on her back.

"Are you okay?" Clementine moved closer to Christa. She was sweating and still breathing heavily.

"I'm okay Clem," mumbled Christa in a wounded voice. "I just really thought I was up for this. Kept telling myself I wasn't 'too pregnant' for this kind of thing. I guess I was wrong."

"It's harder than I remember," confessed Clem. "Maybe it's not that you're pregnant. Maybe we spent so much time at the cabin we're just kind of, you know, out of practice?"

"I think it's more than being out of practice why I had to stop so much today," lamented Christa.

"Well…" Clementine tried to think of something to say. "I'm glad you had to stop a bunch of times."

"Why's that?" asked Christa, suspecting Clem had a clever answer.

"Because… I got to take a break when you did. I'd be a lot more tired if you didn't do that." Christa smirked at Clem.

"That's sweet Clem." Christa rubbed her forehead.

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Clem.

"No. I'm just going to rest for a while. Maybe take a nap. What about you? Do you need anything?"

"No. Well, I'm hungry. But Nick's working on that."

"That Pete guy acts like he's so big for feeding us after he took everything," groused Christa.

"I think he wants to help us."

"For now," scoffed Christa as she carefully turned onto her side. "I wouldn't count on that lasting." Clementine looked out through the trees towards the river. She could see Pete off in the distance fiddling with something, probably his traps. Surveying the campsite, Clem could see Christa was resting, Nick was preparing the fish, and Sarah and Carlos were still talking to each other.

Seeing that everyone else was preoccupied, Clem carefully sneaked away towards the river. As she approached, she could hear Pete swearing to himself. She came up behind the older man as he was attaching a rope to one of his traps.

"Pete?" Pete spun around in shock, reaching for his holster as he did so. "It's just me."

"Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Pete took his hand off his gun. "Anyone ever tell you sneaking up on people is a real bad habit, especially nowadays."

"That's why I said your name," explained Clem as she stepped onto the riverbank. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't, it's just…" Pete picked up the fish trap. "I just keep expecting someone to jump out at me any minute now." Pete threw the trap into the river. "And it doesn't speak well of me when a little girl can sneak up on me without even trying."

"Maybe I'm just really good at sneaking up on people," reasoned Clem, trying not to sound too smug.

"Or maybe I'm just getting old." Pete looked over at Clem. "You need something?"

"I was just wondering, why are you helping us?"

"It ain't enough that I am?" asked an annoyed Pete. "You gotta know why now?"

"I was just asking," retorted a defensive Clem. "You seem to be the only one who wants to, other than Sarah maybe. And if you stop helping us—"

"I won't. You hear me?" Pete assured, sounding almost emotional as he did so. "I'm done living like that."

"How did you live before?"

Pete took a deep breath in response. "How… how well did you know this… Omid, was it?"

"Yeah," answered Clem.

"How'd you know him?"

"He was just taking care of me, like Christa," explained Clem. "I really liked him. He was funny, and tried to make me feel better and was always really nice." Clem's face sank. "But, it didn't help keep him alive." Pete sighed as he heard Clem repeat his words.

"No, but I reckon it made things easier for the two of you though," reasoned Pete.

"Is that what you're trying to do?" asked Clem. "Make things easier by being nicer?"

"In a sense," shrugged Pete. "I figured if I didn't try to do the right thing again soon, I'd forget how." Pete looked at Clementine's bandaged arm. "Like I said, if you and Christa need someone to hate, hate me for what's happening. Coming out here was my decision, so what happens is on my head. Not Nick, or even Carlos."

"I don't hate you," said Clem.

"Truth be told, I think I'd feel better if you did," confessed Pete. "Least then, I'd know what to expect."

"Is that why you're mean to Nick?"

"I'm just trying to toughen the boy up a little. Someone's gotta push him to be a man, might as well be me," said Pete. "Besides, I ain't gonna be around forever. Be easier for him in the long run if I'm just his bastard uncle."

"I don't think it's working," noted Clem. "He's worried about you."

"He should be worried about himself. Not me."

"Do you care about him?"

"Of course I do. That boy is the closest thing I've got to a son."

"You should tell him that," suggested Clementine.

"If he heard me talking like that he'd figure I'd gone senile or was dying, or both."

"But it's how you feel."

"How I feel ain't gonna do him any damn good right now. Like I said, he needs to be thinking about himself, and what he's doing. Not have him think I'm always gonna be there for him."

"You won't?"

"God willing, I would. But God ain't all that willing these days." A distant rustling caught the pair's attention. Clem ducked behind Pete as he reached for his gun. She watched as a walker clumsily stumbled out of the woods and towards the river.

"God, even out here you can't get away from the damn things. Bad enough they eat people, they also chase off everything we eat. Can't remember the last time I even saw a deer." Pete and Clem watched as the walker tried entering the river, but got stuck on the branch of a fallen tree. He started swinging his arms towards the water, comically unaware of the obvious branch holding him at the waist."The fuck is he doing? Trying to kill the fish next?"

"I think he's following the sounds the river makes."

"Dumb fuck lurkers. I probably should put him down before he finds his way into our camp." Pete took his hand off his gun and reached for a knife attached to his belt.

"You're not gonna shoot it?" asked Clem.

"Don't wanna risk the noise." Pete approached the walker. "You might want to look away."

"Why? It's just a walker."

"Not the squeamish type?" Clem shrugged. "Nick can't stand getting close to these things."

"Well, they are dangerous," noted Clem.

"A bunch of them, yeah. With just one, all you need to be is faster." Pete thrust his knife through the walker's eye just as it turned towards him. "Good luck telling Nick that though." Pete started wiping his knife off on the dead walker's shirt. "Kid's always been skittish. First time I took him out hunting, about when he was your age, he had this beautiful twelve point buck in his sights. And what does he do? He turns to me and says 'I just can't do it." Pete sheathed his knife. "Should have seen his face when I took the shot myself. Boy was he—" Pete stopped mid-sentence as he turned back towards Clem. Clementine turned around and was surprised to find Nick standing behind her, looking rather annoyed.

"Nick," called Pete as he started moving back. "What happened?"

"I just came to say dinner was almost ready," informed Nick, clearly irritated.

"Good. I could use a hot meal after today," said Pete as he approached his nephew. "Guess we all could." Nick just stared at Pete.

"Why'd you tell her that?" grumbled Nick as he turned back towards the camp.

"I was just making conversation." Pete and Clem followed after Nick. "Maybe let her know that whole shed business wasn't a regular thing for you."

"No, my regular thing is I'm a fucking wimp. Is that it?" asked an annoyed Nick.

"I didn't say that," asserted Pete.

"You 'don't say' a lot of things about me," noted Nick as he headed for the campfire.

"Well if you're gonna pitch a goddamn fit every time I open my mouth, maybe I'll just stop talking about you all together."

"Fine by me."

Christa sat up as she saw Clem returning with Nick and Pete. "What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing, I went to the river," answered Clementine.

"Clem, you can't run off like that," scolded Christa.

"It was like twenty feet away," reasoned Clem. "I was with Pete."

"What were you doing with her?" asked a suspicious Christa.

"He was probably getting ready to adopt her," commented Nick as he sat down by the fire.

"What?" asked an angry Christa.

"Don't listen to him," insisted Pete as he sat down. "He's just sore that your girl probably has more stomach for this than he does."

"Stomach for what?" asked an utterly confused Christa.

"Pete killed a lurker," answered Clementine.

"There was a lurker?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"Not anymore," answered Pete.

"It's fine Sarah. It's gone," assured Carlos.

"It was just one," informed Clem. "There's not many of them this far away from the cities."

"Have you seen—"

"Sarah," scolded Carlos. "Don't bother Clementine."

"I was just curious," answered Sarah.

"You don't need to know anything about the lurkers other than to keep away from them." Clementine inched closer to the fire, trying to get warm. She looked at the crudely roasted fish and sighed.

"Are you okay?" asked Christa.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Clem rubbed her arms, trying to get warm. "It's just kinda cold."

"It's gonna get colder," commented Pete.

"I knew we should have found you some winter clothes before we came out here," lamented Christa.

"You could borrow my jacket," suggested Sarah.

"Sarah, no," said Carlos. "Then you'd be cold all night."

"But she's younger than me, she probably needs it more," reasoned Sarah.

"She can take mine." Christa removed her own jacket and gave it to Clem. "We've had enough help from you people as it is."

"When you get done eating you should huddle up with each other," recommended Pete. "Use your body heat to keep each other warm."

"You mean, like hugging?" asked Sarah.

"More or less. Should be easy enough for you and your dad or Christa and her girl." Pete looked to Nick. "And me and him will be fine on our own. In fact, Nick, you take first watch tonight and I'll take the next one until morning." Pete handed one of the two rifles to Nick.

"What about me?" asked Carlos as he eyed the revolver strapped to Pete's hip. "Shouldn't I be armed?"

"I thought you had something put up in a safe place?" Carlos glared at Pete in response. "You and Christa just worry about keeping your girls warm. Me and Nick will keep an eye out for anything tonight." Clem wrapped Christa's jacket around herself, then moved in close to Christa herself, hoping they'd be enough to keep her warm through the night.


	18. Keep Your Friends Close

Clementine awoke to find a strong hand clamped over her mouth. She felt a sense of panic as she opened her eyes, unable to see who was holding her. Before she could scream she heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear.

"It's me." Christa released Clementine, who rolled over to find the woman holding a rifle.

"What's going on?" Looking around, Clem noticed it was still dark, but she could see what looked like faint daylight on the horizon.

"Pete fell asleep," answered Christa. "Now's our chance. Get your backpack on."

"For what?"

"To get away from these people, what else?" answered Christa, baffled by Clem's confusion. Clem dutifully picked up her backpack, but hesitated putting it on as she considered the situation. "Come on, what are you waiting for?" Christa noticed Clementine was looking in the direction of Carlos and Sarah, who were asleep in each other's arms. "Wait, don't tell me you want to stay because you like Carlos's daughter."

"No," denied Clem.

"Clementine, whatever you think of her, don't forget who her father is, and what he's done to us."

"It's not because of Sarah, and I haven't forgot," defended Clem.

"Then what?"

"Where are we going to go?"

"We'll go back to the cabin. Whoever these people are, they're probably not even there anymore," reasoned Christa. "They're not even looking for us."

"Pete and the others weren't looking for us either, and they're afraid of these people."

"Probably because they did something to them and are afraid of payback."

"I'm more afraid of them than I am of Carlos or Nick," argued Clementine.

"More the reason to leave. If those people really are worse, then the last place we need to be is next to the four people they're trying to find."

"But where do we go?"

"We'll go north and find the bridge before they do."

"No, they'd catch us. We're not as fast as them and they're looking for it too."

"They wouldn't be if you hadn't told them about it." Clementine scowled at Christa. "We'll figure something out later, for now, we just need to get out of here."

"This is a bad idea," argued Clem. "They're better at getting food than us, and we've got nowhere to go right now. You're just going to make things worse by taking their gun."

"It's my gun," reminded Christa through gritted teeth. "They took it from me."

"I just mean this isn't a good time to leave."

"This might be our only time," retorted Christa. "You heard Pete, he's not giving our guns back and I don't like the idea of choosing between being at the mercy of the same people who killed Omid and left you to die in the cold or fending for ourselves with no weapons." Clementine looked around, making certain she and Christa were the only ones awake, then reached for her backpack. She unzipped the top and revealed the pistol tucked inside.

"You've had that this whole time?" asked Christa.

"Just put the rifle back. If we have to leave later we'll have this to keep us safe."

"Or we can just leave now with two guns instead of one." Christa reached for the pistol but Clem pulled her backpack away.

"It's my gun," insisted Clementine.

"It was under the porch, wasn't it?" deduced Christa. "You wouldn't have it if I hadn't told you where to look for it."

"So? That doesn't make it yours."

"And that means Carlos was hiding it from the others. You really want to stick around with the likes of him? Someone plotting against his own people, and probably us as well?"

"No, but Pete says he'll keep helping us."

"And what if something happens to him? How do you think being stuck with just Nick and Carlos will work out for us?"

"Then we'll leave then."

"No, we're leaving now," insisted Christa. "Now you need to—"

"I don't need to do shit," swore Clementine.

"Clementine!" exclaimed Christa, trying not to raise her voice. "Since when did you start talking like that?"

"Since I felt like it," asserted Clem. "You're not my mom Christa. And you're not Lee either. I don't have to do what you say."

"I'm the person Lee asked to take care of you," reminded Christa.

"No, you told me he said he wanted both you and Omid to take care of me."

"Well if you haven't noticed, Omid's not here. So—"

"Didn't notice? I was right behind him when he died!"

"Keep your voice down," warned Christa.

"I... I was covered in his blood," recounted Clementine.

"Because these people shot him," remarked Christa.

"I wish he was here instead of you." Christa was shocked by Clementine's outburst. She gaped at the furious little girl in disbelief, devastated by what she said. Clementine however showed no regrets about what she said, her very gaze brewing with anger. "I'm not going. And you can't make me. So if you want to go, just leave."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," professed a dumbstruck Christa. "These people kill Omid, leave you out in the cold to die, run us out of our home, and you want to stay with them?" Clem watched as Christa's face twisted from hurt to angry. "Fine Clem, have it your way."

Clementine watched in disbelief as Christa stood up and walked away, staggered to see Christa would actually abandon her. But upon seeing Christa prop the rifle she was holding against a sleeping Pete, Clem realized she wasn't actually leaving. Christa returned to where Clem was sitting and lay down on the ground, a bitter expression on her face.

"I'm telling you right now," stated Christa. "This is a mistake." Clementine turned her back to Christa, not wanting to look at her anymore. She then zipped up her backpack and clutched it close, refusing to let anyone take it from her. As she tried to get comfortable on the dirt, she noticed Christa's jacket was still covering her legs. Clementine kicked it off, thinking it didn't feel all that warm anymore.


	19. A Fragile Alliance

Pete's traps didn't catch many fish, and the older man insisted they only eat half of what little they had caught, asserting they won't have any time to stop for food again until sundown. Biting into the meager scraps of burnt fish as she tried to get comfortable on the cold hard dirt, Clementine found herself wishing she was back at the cabin all over again.

Sleeping on the ground had been a fairly miserable experience as well, and waking up shivering made Clementine regret kicking Christa's jacket away. Looking around, the rest of the group didn't seem to be fairing much better, with everyone quietly eating their scant meals without a word between them.

Breakfast didn't last long, with Pete urging the group to get moving as soon as possible. Traveling along the river went slowly, with everyone still tired from walking so much yesterday. And Pete insisting they remain quiet meant there was no conversation either, making for a very dull and tedious trek through the wilderness.

After a while, Clementine found herself tuning our her surroundings. There was nothing to see, except more trees in every direction and a river that never seemed to end. The girl merely followed Christa, who just seemed to be following the others. But to where was anyone's guess.

After several hours of sluggish marching, how many exactly Clem didn't know, the group rounded a river bend and discovered a wooden bridge off in the distance. Pete motioned for everyone to stop, then removed a scope from his pocket while everyone looked out on the first sign of civilization they had seen all day.

"I'm guessing that's it?" asked Pete.

"I told you, I never saw the damn thing," remarked Christa. "And the one person who did—"

"Yeah, we get it," interrupted Pete. "Well, we've been following the river all day. Doubt there's many other bridges to find out here."

"Somebody's been here." Nick adjusted his binoculars.

"How do you know?" asked Clementine.

"There's a fishing net tied to the handrail, right at the middle."

"Yeah, I see that." Pete sighed. "I don't like this. There's a road running right up to this thing."

"Wasn't that the point of coming here?" asked Carlos. "You said we had to find another way. What's this?"

"If they're still looking for us, they might have come through here if there was a road they could use."

"Are we gonna have to sleep on the ground again?" asked Sarah.

"We are leaving the woods eventually, aren't we?" asked an impatient Carlos.

"We'll leave when it's safe to leave. Not before," declared Pete.

"And when will that be?" asked Carlos. "Everything you've—"

"Hey!" called Nick. "Someone's out there." Clem could see a figure moving across the bridge from the other side of the river.

"All right, everyone fall back," ordered Pete in a hushed voice as he motioned towards the trees. The group moved back into the forest for cover, while Pete and Nick remained near the edge, observing the bridge.

"What's happening?" whispered Carlos.

"One man in black. Doesn't look familiar, but I can't see his face all that well." Clem tried to inch closer but Christa put her arm around her, keeping her still. "Did you ever run into anyone else out here?" Pete asked Christa.

"Just you people," answered an annoyed Christa.

"All he's got is a bow," reported Nick. "We could take him."

"Just because all you can see is his bow doesn't mean that's all he's carrying," reminded Pete. "He might still have a gun or knife on him. And he might be one of a dozen. And as for taking him, we didn't come out here to start trouble."

"Could have fooled me," scoffed Christa.

"I'll go introduce myself." Pete stood up. "Nick, you cover me from here. Be ready if he tries something, but only if he tries something, otherwise keep your gun down. If there are more of them, a shot will bring them running."

"Why even bother?" asked Christa. "Let's just avoid him."

"And risk running into more of his people unprepared?" asked Pete. "Better to chance a meeting now with just one of them and maybe figure out what he's about."

"Yeah, that's worked wonders for me and her," commented Christa.

"I'll move along the woods a bit before showing myself, that way he won't know where y'all are," explained Pete. "I'll announce myself first, so Nick, be ready if you see him drawing on me, but not a second sooner. The rest of you stay put, especially you." Pete gestured to Carlos.

"If I don't come back, then it's safe to assume he's not friendly. If that happens…" Pete turned to Nick. "Just follow through on what we discussed." Nick seemed unsettled by this order. "Can you do that?" Nick reluctantly nodded to Pete.

"Wait, what did you two discuss?" questioned Christa.

"Yes, what indeed?" added Carlos, equally curious.

"Just what to do if anything happens to me," answered Pete.

"Which is?" Pete ignored Christa's question and started moving through the forest towards the bridge. Clem edged out of Christa's grip and towards the river.

"Clem," called Christa.

"I just want to see." Clem stopped behind one of the trees. Christa came up behind Clem, also trying to see the bridge.

"Sarah, stay right here." Carlos left Sarah and moved next to Nick.

"This is a bad idea," commented Christa.

"Yes, it is," agreed Carlos.

"If Pete says he wants to meet this guy, then that's what we're doing," asserted Nick as he watched the bridge through his binoculars. "He does stuff like this all the time."

"Not like this he didn't," insisted Carlos. "Ever since we left he's been acting differently."

"How would you know?" asked Nick. "You never went out there with him."

"Neither did you," reminded Carlos.

"Pete knows what he's doing. He's—" Nick dropped his binoculars and grabbed his rifle. Everyone looked to the bridge, but all they could see was a figure standing on it in the distance.

"What happened?" whispered Carlos.

"I think they just met." Nick set his rifle down and picked up the binoculars.

"Is everything okay?" asked Sarah in a hushed voice from the wooded area.

"Everything's fine sweetheart." The group watched as a second figure, presumably Pete, met with the first.

"What's happening?" asked Clementine.

"They're just talking," informed Nick.

"What exactly is this plan you and Pete have for us?" asked Carlos.

"It's just what Pete set aside for us before we left Shaffer's," answered Nick.

"Then what harm is there in telling us what that is exactly?" asked Carlos.

"Yeah, really," agreed Christa.

"He doesn't want any of you running off without us," answered an annoyed Nick.

"If he doesn't come back, you're going to have to tell us about it anyways."

"He's coming back. They don't even look tense. They're—" Everyone watched as the pair of figures started moving across the bridge to the other side of the river.

"So much for that," commented Christa.

"Where's he going?" Carlos demanded to know.

"They're just walking," reported Nick. "Guy is probably showing Pete something on the other side." Carlos picked up the rifle and looked through the scope.

"Don't." Nick put his hand on the gun and aimed the barrel down at the dirt.

"Yeah, somebody might blow your head off for trying to see." Sarah gasped at Christa's comment.

"Christa," spoke an annoyed Clem.

"Not in front of my daughter," growled Carlos in a low voice.

"Yeah, imagine how horrible it would be for her to see that," remarked Christa in a biting tone.

"Christa stop it," insisted Clementine.

"Would you all shut the fuck up?" suggested Nick as he watched the bridge.

"Don't tell me what to do," retorted Christa.

"Christa," repeated Clem in a louder voice, desperate to get the woman's attention.

"You're only here because of Pete," reminded Carlos. "Bringing you along has been his worst idea yet."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up already?" suggested an angry Nick. "If Pete did anything wrong, it was bringing you with us."

"Well that's one thing we agree on," added Christa.

"I don't want to hear it from you either," snapped Nick. "Pete and I have been doing everything for you and your kid and all you do is bitch."

"Well fucking excuse me if I'm not all that grateful to the same assholes who—"

"Not in front of Sarah!" Clementine groaned as everyone started talking over each other. Seeing no activity from the bridge, Clem moved towards the woods and just kept walking, hoping to get away from the argument. She found a tree to sit down besides and covered her ears. Clem looked out at the forest, pondering what would happen if she just kept walking. As Clementine wondered to herself, she noticed someone moving next to her.

"I'm sorry our parents don't get along." Clem looked over to find Sarah standing beside her. "Is there anything I can do?" Clem took her hands away from her ears so she could hear Sarah better.

"I'm just sick of hearing grown-ups fight." Sarah sat down next to Clementine. "It's like all they ever do."

"I'm sorry," said Sarah.

"And I'm sick of people not listening to me."

"I'm listening to you." Clem turned to Sarah.

"Yeah, you are," realized Clementine. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," answered Sarah in a warm voice.

"I never thanked you for helping me that night either," realized Clementine.

"It's okay," assured Sarah.

"No it's not," insisted Clem. "That was a really good thing you did."

"I just brought you a box," reminded Sarah. "Anybody could have done that."

"Not everyone would though," replied Clementine. "You did."

"I guess," shrugged Sarah.

"Why did you help me?" wondered Clem.

"What kind of question is that?" answered a confused Sarah. "You needed help. People are supposed to help little girls." Clementine found Sarah's sentiment bittersweet. It felt like something that should be true, but rarely was anymore.

"Thanks for helping me," spoke Clem in a more emotional voice. "And, thanks for making me that nice note too."

"You got that?" Clem took off her backpack. She unzipped it and removed the paper from inside. "You kept it," noted Sarah, touched to see it again. "Did it help?"

"A little bit, yeah," smiled Clem. "It was nice to know somebody cares about me."

"Your mom cares about you."

"I don't know."

"Even if she gets mad, she still cares. She's your mom." Clementine found little comfort in that observation, seeing as Christa wasn't actually her mother. "If you don't mind me asking, where's your dad?" Clementine turned away from Sarah. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"He's gone. He's been gone for a while." Clem couldn't decide if that was a lie or not. Her dad had been gone for a while, but not Omid, which is what Sarah was probably asking about, even if she didn't realize it.

"I'm really sorry."

"You didn't know."

"That means your mom's baby won't ever meet its dad." Clementine hadn't thought of that, but now felt even worse upon realizing it. "I never got to meet my mom." Clementine turned back to Sarah.

"Never?" asked Clem.

"Well, I guess I did, but she died when I was really little, so, I don't remember her," explained Sarah.

"Not even a little?"

Sarah shook her head. "I wouldn't even know what she looked like if my dad hadn't shown me pictures of her." Sarah looked down on the ground. "I love my dad, but, I really wish I could have at least met my mom too. Does that sound selfish?"

Clem wanted to tell her no, but thinking about what happened with her parents stopped her. "Just be happy you have your dad," answered Clem, trying not to sound upset.

"I am, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, sometimes I wonder if my dad thinks I'm dumb. I'll ask him about things, and he'll just tell me not to worry about it, even though I'm not worried, like I won't understand." Sarah looked down at her feet. "But, maybe that's just because I am dumb or something."

"You're not dumb," insisted Clementine. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, it's just, you seem to know so much more than me, and you're younger than me," observed Sarah. "So, I guess I feel dumb compared to someone smart like you."

"You're not dumb just because you don't know things. If nobody tells you this stuff, how could you know? That's not your fault."

"Well, then why doesn't my dad tell me about these things?" Clem bit her tongue, holding back the truth about how Carlos keeps things from Sarah.

"I don't know," lied Clementine. "You should ask him sometime."

"I'm afraid he'd get mad at me."

"For asking a question?"

"I don't know, maybe."

Clementine looked down at the gun nestled in her bag. "You know, I could show you things, if you don't tell your dad."

"Like what?" Clem looked around. She didn't see anyone nearby, and could still hear occasional comments from Christa, Carlos and Nick.

"Do you still want to learn how to use a gun?" asked Clem.

"Um… I guess I could."

Clem removed her pistol from her bag. "Now we can't actually shoot it, because of the noise. But I can still show you how it works." Clem took the gun and offered it to Sarah. "Remember, don't point it at things you don't want to shoot."

"I won't." Sarah carefully took the gun from Clementine. "Again, I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't know," reassured Clem. "Now, you hold it like this." Clem helped to arrange Sarah's hands to grip the pistol properly. "Know where your finger is, and don't put it on the trigger unless you know you have to hurt somebody."

"Okay."

"Now, you line up this thingy, in-between these two and that's how you aim. Try to aim at that tree." Sarah pointed the gun at the tree.

"And you just pull the trigger?"

"Actually, you want to squeeze it."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but it helps for some reason."

"How do you know so much about guns?"

"A man I knew taught me how to use them," answered Clem, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"They're really loud, and they hurt your hands. Or, at least mine," said Clem. "But they're not so scary once you get used to them. At least, when you're holding it. It's still scary when someone else has one."

"Clementine, would you have really shot that man? At the cabin?"

Clementine considered the question. "Maybe."

"Oh." Sarah looked at Clementine, surprised by her answer. "I… I don't think I could ever do something like that."

"Even if they were going to hurt you?"

"Have… have you had to do it?" Clementine looked away, unsure how to answer. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask you things like that."

"Everything's dangerous now Sarah. Everything." Clem turned back to Sarah, who had a terrified expression on her face. "Well, don't be scared right now, it's just—"

"Out there…" Clem looked out to the woods and saw a walker about thirty feet away, stumbling towards the pair. Sarah raised the gun, shaking it horribly as she tried to aim at the approaching threat.

"Sarah, just let me do it." Clem carefully placed her hand on the gun. "It'll be okay." Clementine slowly pulled the gun out of Sarah's grip, which offered no resistance. Clementine took hold of the gun, lined up her sights with the walker's head, moved her finger to the trigger, and watched the walker drop dead from a shot to the head. But not from her gun.

Clementine looked around in confusion. Turning her head she spotted Nick approaching from Sarah's side, his rifle in hand. Clementine quickly tossed her gun back into her bag and zipped it shut before Nick turned to the girls, surprised to see them.

"What are you two doing?" Clem and Sarah just looked up at Nick, unsure how to answer. "Are you okay? Did—"

"Sarah!" called Carlos as he ran to the scene.

"Clementine!" yelled Christa as she arrived right behind Carlos. "What did I say about running off?"

"I told you to stay right there." Carlos looked to Clementine. "This is your doing. Isn't it?"

"No, dad—"

"Don't you take that tone with her," snapped Christa. "It's not her fault if your kid can't follow directions."

"She was just—"

"Sarah, you keep away from Clementine," ordered Carlos.

"But—"

"You hear that Clem?" mocked Christa. "Carlos wants you to leave his daughter alone. Remember that next time she needs your help."

"I'm not—"

"What the hell is going on out there!" The distant call of Pete caught everyone's attention. They watched as the older man moved through the brush to where the group was standing. "I heard a shot. What's going on?"

"It was just a lurker," reported Nick. "I took care of it."

"God dammit Nick," swore Pete.

"What the hell was I supposed to do?" asked a perplexed Nick.

"Why didn't you use your knife? Go through the eye like I taught you?" asked Pete. "Everyone for a mile will have heard that. If they're still looking for us you just gave them a big damn clue to where to find us. And it doesn't help to hear gunshots when I'm telling someone we mean no harm."

"I… I didn't have time," reasoned Nick in a nervous voice. "It was… going for the girls. I had to shoot it."

"And what the hell are they doing this far from the river?" asked Pete.

"Why don't you ask her?" Carlos gestured to Clementine.

"His girl was the one that ran off," insisted Christa.

"I can't leave you people alone for ten goddamn minutes without something going wrong." Pete took a deep breath. "Look, the man's name is Matthew. He and one other are held up at what use to be a ranger station across the river."

"So there's just two of them?" concluded Nick.

"That's what they said and I didn't see anything to suggest otherwise. They also said they offer a meal and a place to stay for anyone passing through."

"That seems awfully generous," noted Carlos in a suspicious voice.

"Why do they give people food?" asked Clem, also suspect.

"Maybe they're just nice," suggested Sarah.

"They said they got enough to go around, at least, for the moment. From the sounds of things, they've been held up there since the beginning, so maybe they haven't had it so bad. But I just can't be certain."

"If they're so willing to give people handouts, that means they could have seen the people looking for us," concluded Christa.

"Trust me, if those people had been here before, then these two wouldn't be here now," answered Pete. "Other than a free meal, I didn't see or hear anything that raises a red flag. But still, I'm thinking it's better we tell them no thanks and start moving towards where we need to go, right now."

"Wait, you're not serious are you?" asked Nick.

"That was the plan all along," reminded Pete.

"We only got a day's worth of food and water left," reminded Nick.

"It can't be more than ten miles to go from here."

"Ten miles full of lurkers once we get out of the woods."

"And it'll probably be dark before we make it that far," added Christa.

"Well we ain't getting any closer waiting out here," retorted Pete.

"No, but we could be better prepared if we remain here for the day," suggested Carlos. "Especially if these people do have food."

"And somewhere to stay the night," added Christa.

"I would be nice to sleep indoors again," said Sarah.

"You said it's just two guys," said Nick. "You and I can handle them if we have to."

"It ain't them I'm worried about," said Pete.

"Then what?" asked Nick.

"It's just, big building right next to a road. Place like that's gonna stick out to them if they come this way."

"Like a target," commented Clementine.

"Exactly," concurred Pete, surprised by Clem's input.

"It's a country road in the middle of the woods," reasoned Nick.

"If you people aren't checking this out, then me and her will," asserted Christa.

"We will?" asked Clem, annoyed that Christa was speaking for her, again.

"You'd take that chance with your girl?" asked Pete.

"Well they haven't shot anyone yet, so I'm already feeling better about them than you people," said Christa.

"And since you seem to insist on keeping your plans a secret, I don't see how leaving now will do us any good," added Carlos.

"I'm guessing you want to check it out as well?" Pete asked Clementine in a resigned voice. Clem looked out over the forest, then turned back to the older man.

"Would it be warmer?" asked Clementine.

"Their building seemed pretty sturdy and it has a fireplace."

"I guess we could at least see it," reasoned Clem.

"Well then, I guess I can't go against all of y'all," realized Pete. "But everyone stay sharp. We still don't know these people." Pete led the group out of the woods and down the riverbank towards the bridge. It seemed much larger to Clem in person than it did at a distance, arcing over the distance of the river in a way that left enough space to drive a boat under it. Crossing the bridge they found a thin young man in a black hooded jacket armed with a lime green bow.

"Everything okay?" asked the man as the group crossed the bridge.

"Yeah, just a lurker." Pete stopped in front of the man. "Everyone, this is Matthew, and he's offered to let us stay the night. Matthew, this is my nephew Nick. That's Carlos, his daughter Sarah. Christa, her girl Clementine."

"Well, you don't look like assholes," commented Matthew with a smirk.

"How do you figure that?" Pete glared at Christa.

"Assholes usually don't have so many kids with them," answered Matthew as he started moving away from the group. "Usually."

"Nick, take Carlos and Sarah and go on," instructed Pete. "I want a minute to talk with Christa." Clementine watched as the others left, leaving her, Christa and Pete alone on the bridge.

"What now?" asked Christa.

"You don't have to like us, but you sure as shit could stop making things harder for everyone," suggested an irritated Pete.

"You think I give a fuck about making things easier for you after what you did to me?" retorted Christa.

"No, but what about her?" Pete gestured to Clementine. "I don't think she's enjoying you stirring up shit every minute either."

"I don't," answered Clem in a defiant voice. "I just wish you would stop."

"Really?" asked Christa. "None of this is bothering you?"

"Not as much as you bringing it up all the time. I miss him too you know. And every time you start talking about it, I can't help but think about it and…" Christa looked at a sniveling Clementine, desperately trying not to cry. She tried to put her hand on the girl's shoulder, but Clem shrugged it off.

"Give it a rest, just for the evening," suggested Pete in a more concerned tone.

Christa sighed deeply. "Fine," she said in a calm, almost ashamed voice.

"All right, let's go."


	20. New Faces

Pete led Clementine and Christa across the bridge. They followed an old dirt road for a short time until they saw a large two-story wooden lodge looming in the distance. As they came up to the front of the building they saw a short balding man wearing a red shirt and a friendly smile.

"Pete," he greeted as he approached the three. "I was wondering what happened to the rest of the people Matthew said were coming."

"This here's Christa, and the girl is Clementine," introduced Pete.

"It's nice to meet both of you, I'm Walter DeWitt," he said.

"You've got enough food to spare for six people?" asked Christa.

"You're suspicious," observed Walter, not sounding offended in the slightest. "I could tell Pete was too when he was here earlier."

"Can you blame us?" shrugged Pete.

"Judging from what we've heard from other travelers, not at all," consoled Walter.

"Where do you get your food?" asked Clem.

"Matthew and I were very fortunate. During one of our earliest expeditions we encountered an overturned semi trailer loaded entirely with non-perishables."

"That's quite a find," noted Pete. "Where was this?"

"About a three-hour walk northwest of here, and about double that when you're carrying cases of canned peaches with you," joked Walter.

"And that's lasted you this entire time?" asked Christa.

"Not it alone, we've found other goods in the early days searching for another treasure trove and we've been surviving off fish from the river, trying to wean ourselves off nonrenewable supplies in preparation for the day they finally run out."

"And you're still willing to give us some?" asked Christa, sounding more concerned than suspicious now.

"They're not going to last forever, regardless if we share them or not. And, all though I'm normally not one to read too deeply into providence, the truck we found did have 'Feed the Children' printed on the side of it. It seemed, unsavory, to horde food donated to charity for just ourselves. Although, we rarely get the opportunity to feed actual children." Walter smiled at Clementine. "May I ask, how old are you?"

"I'm nine and a half." Clem felt nervous, unsure what to think of Walter.

"I think that makes you the youngest guest we've ever had here," noted Walter in a melancholy tone. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you."

"Don't sell the girl short," said Pete. "From what I've seen, she's a tough kid."

"Is that true?" asked Walter in a playful voice.

"I guess so," shrugged Clem, unsure how tough she really was.

"Well, if for some reason, you don't feel like being 'tough' while you stay here, that's just fine too," assured Walter.

"Did you see which way my nephew went?" asked Pete.

"That would be Nick, right?" Pete nodded. "He's in the lodge." Pete headed for the front door. "I guess I should give you two the tour."

"Higher!" called a distant voice.

"Was that Sarah?" asked Clementine.

"Sounds like she's enjoying the tire swing Matthew introduced her to," surmised Walter.

"You have a swing?" asked Clem.

"Of course, how foolish of me. What better place to start?" Walter led Christa and Clem around the side of the lodge. Off in the distance, Matthew observed as Sarah swung about like mad on a tire tied to a tree. She was standing on the swing and holding onto the rope with her hands while Carlos gave her pushes as she flew by, spinning wildly as she passed.

"You want me to push you?" suggested Christa.

"I don't know," answered Clem. "That stuff is for kids."

"Clementine, you're—"

"I can't be a kid anymore," Clem insisted to Christa.

"Why not?" asked Walter.

"I just can't," reasoned Clem. "Not anymore."

"Do you know what C.S. Lewis said about growing up?" Clem shook her head at Walter. "When I became a man I put away my childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be grown up."

"What does that mean?" asked Clem.

"It just means, part of growing up is you stop worrying about acting like a kid," explained Christa. "Sound like anyone we used to know?" Clem looked over at Sarah, who seemed to be having the time of her life. Even Carlos was smiling, which looked odd actually.

"Do you know what I would say if I could ever go back and visit my nine-year-old self?" Walter asked Clem.

"What?"

"Walt, you know all that running around, and jumping off of things, and climbing you've been doing? Do twice as much of it as you're doing now."

"You're just saying that," accused Clementine.

"Oh no, there's nothing I miss more from my youth than my mobility," assured Walter. "At your age, you don't think about pulling your back, or knee injuries, or joint pain."

"Swollen ankles," added Christa.

"Our first time collecting goods from that truck, I threw out my back so bad I could barely move for the next two days."

"Really?" asked Clem.

"Just ask Matthew. I doubt he's forgotten that incident." Clementine watched as Sarah leapt off the tire swing and onto the ground.

"Clementine," called Sarah as she approached. "You gotta try their swing. It's awesome."

"I bet you worked up an appetite just now," noted Walter.

"Yeah, I'm really hungry," answered Sarah.

"Would you like to help me with dinner?" suggested Walter.

"Sure."

"Sarah," said Carlos. "I think he will be fine without your help."

"It's no trouble," assured Walter.

"I'd just prefer she stay close," insisted Carlos.

"Need a lookout?" Clem turned to Matthew, who was still holding his bow. "Don't worry about making too much noise, any infected come this way and I'll put 'em down."

"Well Clem?" asked Christa. "What's it going to be?"

"I guess I could try it." Matthew guided Clementine to the tire swing. The girl climbed into the tire while Christa positioned herself behind the swing.

"You ready?" asked Christa.

"I guess so." Christa gave the swing a shove, sending Clem up into the air. Christa watched as Clem just clung to the tire, a distressed look stuck on her face.

"Come on Clem," prodded Christa. "There's nothing wrong with you enjoying a swing."

"It's not that," said Clem.

"Then what?" Clementine kept her gaze fixed on Matthew, who was looking out at the forest with his bow in hand.

"You're worried about these new people," concluded Christa as she stopped pushing the swing.

"Last time a couple of guys offered us food, it ended really badly."

"When was this?"

"Before I met you. There were these brothers called the Saint Johns. They said they would give us food for gas," recounted Clem.

"And they didn't?" asked Christa.

"They were… horrible," muttered Clementine, not wanting to recount that day in detail. "They had a swing too, and when Lee pushed me on it, it felt like everything was going to be okay. But it wasn't."

"I'm sorry Clementine. I wish I could just tell you there's nothing to worry about, but we both know that's not true." Christa looked at Clem, who seemed to look even more depressed than she did a minute ago. "Still, Omid was right, not everyone is out to get us. And these two seem well meaning enough."

"So did the Saint Johns," noted Clem. "It was just a lie."

"You've always got to be careful around new people," concurred Christa. "Still, there are more of us than them."

"There was even more of us when we met the Saint Johns," countered Clem.

"Okay, well…" Christa struggled to think of something comforting to say. "How bout this? Do you think if Lee hadn't pushed you on their swing, things would have happened any differently?"

"No. Why would—" Clem felt her stomach drop as Christa sent her flying with a hardy push. The swing spun around in circles a few times before coming to a sudden stop facing Christa.

"Might as well just swing then," smiled Christa. "Can't hurt, right?"

"I guess not." Clem smirked at Christa.

"All right, now hold on, because—"

"Wait." Clem stood up, positioning her feet on the seat of the swing and grabbing onto the rope like she saw Sarah do earlier. "Okay." Christa turned the swing around.

"Tarzan-style. Just make sure you hold on real tight." Clem watched as the ground shrunk before her as she went flying into the air. Her heart raced as she clung to the rope, wind blowing past her face. Another push sent the whole world spinning, creating an odd swirl of color and shapes. Clem found it dizzying but exciting all at once.

"Your arm's not bothering you, is it?" asked Christa as Clementine swung by.

"No," called Clem as the swing slowly stopped spinning. "I am kind of dizzy though."

Christa grabbed the swing. "You know, if you're really feeling brave, there's another way you can ride a tire swing," she suggested in a playful voice.

"How?"

"Try climbing on top of it." Clem pulled herself up using the rope, seating herself atop the tire. She felt a little uneasy, with nothing beside her she was left with just the rope for stability. She also felt a lot higher off the ground sitting on top of the swing instead of in it.

"You sure this is a good idea?" asked Clem.

"If you don't feel comfortable you can just go back to how you were doing it before," reassured Christa.

"Did you ever ride a swing like this when you were little?"

"Lots of times," smirked Christa. "Used to do it one handed to show off to the other kids."

"You did?"

"Yeah, right until the day I lost my grip and flew off the damn thing," recalled Christa in a more regretful tone. "Maybe you should just come down."

"No, I want to try it," insisted Clem.

"All right, but you hold on tight with both hands, and we'll start with one push to make sure you like it."

Clem gripped the rope as tightly as she could. "I'm ready."

"All right, here we go." Christa pulled the swing back before hurling it forward with great force. Clem clung to the rope for dear life, feeling the swing would fly off without her if she let go. As she spun around, Clem was surprised by the almost skyward view she had as she flew back the other way. As the swing settled in place, Clem was ready to ask for another push, when she saw a walker lurching towards Matthew.

"You okay?" Christa's question was answered by Clem pointing towards Matthew. She turned around in time to watch an arrow soar into the walker's head. "It's fine. He's got it. You ready to go again?"

"I think I'm done," admitted Clem in a glum voice.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm not in the mood anymore."

"I understand," consoled Christa as she helped Clem down.

"Thanks for pushing me though."

"All done?" inquired Matthew as he approached the pair.

"Yeah, I think that's it for today," answered Christa.

"All right then, let's eat." Matthew threw his bow over his shoulder and led the pair to the front door. Stepping inside, Clem found herself staring at a rustic open den hosting a large Christmas tree lit by waning sunlight from the windows. There was a stairwell near the tree that led to a small upstairs area where Sarah and Carlos were overlooking the rest of the lodge. Pete and Nick were sitting on a couch facing a roaring fireplace where Walter was stirring an iron pot. It reminded Clem a lot of the cabin, but nicer and with boxes of goods stacked up all over the place.

"Please tell me you two haven't been here offering food to people this entire time," said Christa as she examined her surroundings.

"Okay, we won't," answered Walter, amused by the request.

"But we totally have been," smirked Matthew.

"We've been living in a cabin south of here trying to get by on just a stream for months," lamented Christa.

"You should have come by, we always like company," suggested Walter.

"Yeah, we should have…" realized Christa.

"Company never gives you two any trouble, does it?" asked Pete.

"Occasionally," remarked Matthew.

"Pete was telling me they were chased out of their last home by some people and thought it be prudent for someone to stand watch tonight," reported Walter.

"Guess I'm camping out on the bridge again," concluded Matthew.

"Actually, I was thinking me and my nephew would do it in shifts," suggested Pete.

"Nah, I can handle it," insisted Matthew. "I've always been a bit of a nightcrawler and I've gotten plenty of practice with this thing. Actually nailed an infected before I came in."

"I wish you didn't sound so proud every time you did that," lectured Walter.

"They're not people Walt," reminded Matthew.

"No, but they use to be people," said Walter.

"Oh, come on. I spent months figuring this thing out. Can you blame for me for feeling a little good about it?"

"You should feel a lotta good about it. Those damn things are a pain in the ass," complimented Pete. "Still, I'd feel better if Nick and I just did the watch for tonight."

"And why's that?" asked Matthew, sounding less affable than before.

"Perhaps, Matthew could take the bridge and you and Nick could watch the north road?" suggested Walter. "Would that work for you?"

"Well, would you take one of our rifles with you?" Pete asked Matthew.

"That'd be pretty noisy," said Matthew.

"Well if things get noisy, you'd be glad to have it," said Pete.

"Are you expecting things to get noisy?" asked Matthew.

"I just like to be prepared," answered Pete calmly. "You could bring your bow as well for lurkers. Nick and I got knives for them and can trade the other rifle off to whoever's on watch."

"We don't have to do shifts, I could handle it," insisted Nick.

"I'd feel better if we traded off at some point," said Pete.

"Your leg's never gonna get better if you don't ever get some rest."

"The last thing I need is to be babied right now."

"I think he's just saying you'll want to be at your best tomorrow," suggested Walter. "These are dangerous times. Surely it's a good idea to keep in top form, right?"

"Yeah, what he said," said Nick.

"Feels like I'm being ganged up on to take the night off."

"Well, there is plenty you could do here, if that's your concern," said Walter. "Although, that couch is notoriously comfortable."

Pete sighed and rubbed his head. "You sure you feel up for this?" he asked Nick.

"Yeah, I'll get some sleep before nightfall," said Nick. "I'll be fine."

"Well, if it'll keep you two off my back for the evening, I guess I can stay here." Pete turned to Nick. "It's just…"

"Just what?" asked Nick.

"Nothing. Just… take care of yourself."

"But please, don't be too hasty if we do have more visitors. In my experience, people are usually gracious if you can offer them a full stomach."

"Yeah, usually," repeated Matthew.

"Clementine," called Sarah as she came down the stairs. "Isn't this great?"

"Yeah, it is," awed Clem as she looked up at the Christmas tree.

"I was thinking—"

"Sarah," called Carlos as he approached. "What did I say? You leave Clementine alone."

"We were just talking," explained Sarah.

"You've talked enough for today. Come on." Sarah and Clem traded disappointed looks before Carlos pulled them apart. Turning away from Sarah, Clem saw Christa sitting at a large table in the middle of the room with a forlorn look on her face.

"What's wrong?" asked Clem.

"I was just thinking," said Christa in a soft voice. "If he was here, right now, he'd be chanting 'I'd told you so' right in my ear." Christa covered her face. "If I had just listened to him." Clem sat down next to Christa as she tried not to cry.

"Is everything okay?" asked Matthew.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Christa quickly wiped her eyes before looking up at Matthew. "Just, thinking about someone I use to know."

"If you're trying to find someone you should check our guestbook," suggested Matthew.

"Guestbook?" Matthew pointed at the front door. Turning around Clem noticed the surrounding walls were decorated with photographs, handwritten notes, and messages written on the wood in paint. Clem approached the wall, trying to pick a spot to focus on.

"A lot of people come through here, or at least they did in the early days. Not so much now," explained Matthew. "Most of them are usually looking for friends and family, so Walt told them to leave a message when they left. That way, if someone they know comes through here, they might know where to start looking."

"Um, did any of those people have a dog?" asked Clem.

"Not that I saw," answered Matthew. "Why?"

"Um, no reason." Clem honed in on a space on the wall that read 'Molly was here. Oct. 16th. Heading northwest.' "You met Molly?"

"Yeah, older woman with a penchant for odd jokes about barnyard animals." Clem sighed. "Not the right Molly?"

"No, that doesn't sound like her," said Clem.

"Well, you could put your name on the wall, in case your Molly does come through. Although, your friend over there didn't seem too eager to sign it." Matthew gestured to Pete.

"Didn't want to broadcast ourselves any more than we already have," explained Pete. "If you know what I mean."

"Well, I don't think our names would be a problem," retorted Christa. "If you know what 'I' mean." Pete seemed annoyed by Christa's comment, but after some thought seemed to understand what she was saying.

"I reckon not," shrugged Pete.

"All right, come on." Matthew guided the pair over to a blank space near the bottom of the wall to the right of the door. "We try to keep people's visits in the order they arrived, so you guys can use this spot."

Clem looked up at the names just above the space. "Alice Underwood and Annabelle," she read.

"Those were our last guests. A little over a month ago." Matthew dragged a cardboard box out of the corner. "Big red headed gal in overalls and a dark haired younger girl. Nice people, but not very talkative. Seemed like they had been through a lot." Clem looked into the box. It had a cup full of brushes, scotch tape, paper, pencils, some broken crayons and a variety of half-used paints.

"So what do we write?" asked Clem as she looked at the brushes.

"Anything you want someone you know to see," suggested Matthew. "We've had people leave pages of instructions for their friends."

"Clem, can you think of anything to say?" asked Christa as she took a tube of purple paint from the box.

"Not right now," answered Clem as she grabbed the pink paint.

"You could just start with your names and add on to it later." Christa and Clem shrugged at each other before applying their brushes to the wood. Clem took care to write as neatly as possible, then took a step back to observe her work. Seeing her and Christa's names along with all the others painted on the wall felt oddly uplifting.

"Sorry for the delay." Clem turned around to find Walter carrying a pot to the table. "It's been a long while since I've had to cook for eight people."

"What's on the menu?" inquired Pete as everyone gathered at the dinner table.

"Beans and peaches mostly. But seeing as we have so many guests I decided to open something special." Walter placed a small tin on the table.

"What's that?" asked Nick.

"Powered milk," answered Walter.

"We're gonna have milk?" asked Sarah, beaming at the possibility.

"Just mix in a few spoonfuls with your water if you want some," instructed Walter.

"When you said opening something special, I was thinking more like whiskey," said Pete as he sat down.

"Sorry, but most people don't usually donate booze to kids," explained Matthew. "Much to my everlasting disappointment."

"I don't think I've had milk since I left home," realized Clementine as she took her seat.

"Yeah, me neither," added Christa. "Not many dairies around anymore." Clem couldn't help but cringe at hearing the word dairy.

"Just make sure you mix it well. It's not exactly farm fresh, but it's a nice change of pace from just plain water," explained Walter.

"Also a good source of calcium," commented Carlos. "It's become hard to find foods that are anymore."

"It's mighty fine of you two to put us up like this," said Pete, sounding almost sentimental.

"Well, there is one last thing we need before we start dinner." An odd smile crept across Walter's face.

"Really?" asked Matthew, seemingly disturbed by Walter's suggestion.

"I think they'll like it." Matthew sighed and moved to what looked like an antique cabinet placed against the back wall. Everyone watched in anticipation as Matthew flipped open the lid.

"Is that…" Christa leaned forward for a better look. "Is that a record player?"

"A Victor Talking Machine," announced Walter as Matthew placed a record on the machine. "Also known as a Victrola. Quite the antique, which carries one major advantage in these trying times." Matthew inserted a crank into the machine and started turning it. "It doesn't use electricity." The turntable started spinning and the sound of an elegant choir filled the air.

"How bout that," noted Pete, amused by the contraption.

"I think that's everything," smiled Walter. "Dinner is served."


	21. Breaking Bread

Clementine looked down at the beans and peaches on her plate, practically drooling from the intoxicating aroma. She started digging into her dinner while the Victrola sang on about a noble king. She took a spoonful of peaches and savored their sweet syrup in her mouth for a moment before swallowing it. The beans were next, providing Clem with a treat that was hearty as it was warm. After that Clem reached for the powdered milk, hastily taking three spoonfuls and vigorously stirring it into her cup of water. She took a quick sip, finding a taste not quite like milk as she remembered but more appetizing than anything she had tasted in a long while.

"I think I've heard this before," commented Christa, listening to the music. "It's a Christmas song."

"Good King Wenceslas," informed Walter.

"And it's downhill from there with O Christmas Tree and Deck the Halls," listed an aloof Matthew. "And the flip side is Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."

"I love that song," said Sarah.

"I'd have preferred some Pink Floyd myself," said Matthew.

"You'll have to excuse Matthew, he's a regular Grinch," joked Walter. "His first instinct when we found the Christmas decorations was to throw them out."

"I did not want to throw them out," insisted Matthew. "Just said, we could use the space and when you suggested putting them on the tree I was like, fine. And I wouldn't mind the holiday tunes if we literally had anything else to listen to it."

"Personally, I always find this song heartwarming. A noble king deciding to brave the harsh winter to deliver a feast to a single peasant while guiding his page through the cold," spoke Walter. "Mark my footsteps and tread in them boldly, thou shall find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly."

"I don't get it," said Sarah.

"The king is going ahead of the page so he'll take the worst of the weather," explained Carlos. "He's suffering so the page won't have to."

"No, I get that," said Sarah. "But isn't the page only out in the cold because the king wanted to help the peasant?" Walter turned to Sarah, a bemused look on his face. "Is… is that wrong?"

"No, that's a very interesting perspective," noted Walter. "I never considered the page may not want to accompany King Wenceslas."

"If the guy is a king, then a page would pretty much have to do what he said," speculated Nick. "Wouldn't he?"

"If he did, then what happens to the page would be on the king," added Pete. "Good or bad."

"What if it's the other way around?" asked Christa. "In the song, the page is the one who knows where the peasant lives. Maybe the page is the one who wants to make the trip and the king feels obligated to help him?"

"Maybe they should just leave the peasant," suggested Clem.

"And why would you say that?" asked Walter, equally concerned and curious.

"Well, they wouldn't be in the cold at all if it wasn't for the peasant," answered Clem in a quiet voice.

"It's not the peasant's fault the weather is bad," noted Sarah.

"And the peasant didn't ask to be fed," added Walter. "I've always liked to think the king and page decided to make the journey together because of their shared goodwill to their fellow man. What about you Matthew? What do you think?" Matthew stared at Walter a moment before answering.

"I think only you could start a round table debate about an old Christmas song," said Matthew.

"Thank you," smirked a smug Walter. "But I think the credit would have to go to Sarah for starting the conversation."

"I'm sorry," apologized Sarah.

"Don't be, it's been a stimulating discussion," said Walter.

"Watch out," said Matthew. "If you're not careful, Walt's going to drag you into our never ending Kirk versus Picard debate. That's how we chased off our last two guests. They'd rather take their chances with the infected than listen to us compare the Corbomite Maneuver to outwitting the Sheliak, again."

"Well that might be because this epidemic will eventually end, whereas that particular debate will not," assured Walter.

"Well, I wouldn't count on the lurkers going anywhere anytime soon," said Pete. "From what I've seen, they're here to stay."

"What have you seen?" asked Walter. "We've been right here almost the entire time, so any news from the rest of the world is always welcome. Talking to other travelers, it sounds like we're all in the dark about the state of the human race."

"Well, Nick and I can both tell you there's nothing left in Hardeeville at this point," reported Pete in a dismal tone. "I'd also stay away from Rincon and Springfield, and especially Savannah. That place is overflowing with the dead."

"Savannah was fucked before they showed up," added Christa.

"When were you in Savannah?" asked Pete.

"About half a year ago."

"We actually met a family who came out of Savannah a long while back," said Matthew. "They told us the people left there were organizing to try and retake the city from the infected."

"It didn't work out," informed Christa.

"You're sure?" asked Matthew.

"We saw it ourselves," said Christa.

"They were all dead when we got there," added a dismal Clem.

"Where else have you been?" asked Walter.

"I was in Macon," said Clem. "But I wouldn't go back there."

"No people there either?" asked Matthew.

"Only bad ones," answered Clem.

"Everything's fucked," mumbled Nick.

"No, not everything," corrected Walter. "Our combined experiences only cover a small portion of Georgia, not the world."

"Actually Hardeeville is in South Carolina," remarked Pete. "It's right on the border."

"My mistake," said Walter. "But my point still stands, we've only seen a sliver of the entire world between all of us. It's more likely than not there are places that have contained the outbreak."

"Where?" asked Nick. "If rescue's coming, how come we've never seen any signs of it?"

"There were a great many people in a great many places needing rescue long before the outbreak, and there's likely far more in need of help now," noted Walter. "But I believe there are people working to fight this crisis, even if we haven't been fortunate enough to find them. It's important not to assume our limited experiences reflect the entire state of the planet."

"Why?" asked Sarah.

"Because, the world's not over," stated Walter, sounding certain as he did. "It can be easy to think that when you're overwhelmed by such tribulations, but mankind has endured such horrors before and we will do it again."

"You really think so?" asked Clementine.

"Personally, I'm having a hard time picturing us coming out on top of this after everything that's happened," admitted Christa.

"I'd imagine so did those who suffered through the Black Death," commented Walter. "A plague that wiped out half the human race wherever it spread for years and reemerged throughout human history over centuries. But as a species, we beat it."

"Yeah, but that plague just killed people," noted Pete. "This one turns people into killers immune to everything but a headshot."

"And we all know that now, and have an additional six centuries of progress to help us deal with this new problem," argued Walter.

"The bubonic plague was also communicable through insects, animals and direct contact with those who had it, living or dead," added Carlos. "Lurkers only have one way to infect the living."

"They don't have to," commented Christa. "We're doing a pretty good job of killing each other." Nick sank in his seat, a sullen expression forming on his face.

"We were doing a pretty good job of that before as well," noted Walter. "But even at our worst, we've never finished ourselves off as a species, and I don't think this will either."

"God I love it when you talk like that." Matthew was grinning from ear to ear at Walter, who smiled right back.

"Well, um, we'd hate to impose on you two," said Pete. "We'll be sure to get out of your hair by tomorrow morning."

"There's no need to rush off," assured Walter. "In fact, if you need to stay another day or more, we'd be happy to have you."

"That's nice of you to offer, but we've already detoured from our original plan enough as it is, so—"

"Hang on," interrupted Christa. "I wouldn't mind staying here for a little while."

"I really think it's best we get moving again as soon as we can," insisted Pete.

"Then you go," suggested Christa. "I think I'd be more, comfortable, just staying here with them for the time being."

"If you don't mind me asking, how far along are you?" asked Walter.

"Over eight months," answered Christa. "I've had a little trouble nailing down the exact date, but considering how hard it was getting out here, I'm thinking it's closer to nine at this point." Christa turned to Clementine. "You wouldn't mind staying here, right?" Clem looked around at the lodge, the plate she had licked clean, and at Walter and Matthew.

"I wouldn't mind staying," answered Clem.

"Well…" Pete took a deep breath. "If that's what you two want, then maybe parting ways is for the best."

"You could all stay here you know," suggested Walter. "We wouldn't have meals this nice every night because, as I said, we're trying to learn how to live off the land. But you're all welcome to stay. You wouldn't even be the first group to stay with us for a while."

"Nah, the rest of will be moving on in the morning," informed Pete. 'So—"

"Speak for yourself," interrupted Carlos. "I think Sarah and I would be better suited staying here as well."

"Wait what?" exclaimed Christa. "No. No way."

"This isn't your home," reminded Carlos. "You don't say who goes or stays."

"Since when do you care whose home you're in?" snarled Christa.

"Now, now, there's no need to fight over this," assured Walter. "Like I said, you're all welcome to stay."

"Yes, you've been gracious hosts to me and my daughter," noted Carlos as he turned to Christa. "Treating us how I'd expect someone would treat a parent and his child."

"You're gonna talk to me about how to treat people with kids after what you pulled?" snapped Christa. "I'd rather leave with them than stay here with you." Clementine sighed and laid her head on the table, uninterested in another argument.

"Gee, thanks a lot," scoffed Nick.

"By all means, leave with Pete and Nick," suggested Carlos.

"Now you wait a goddamn minute," growled Pete.

"You just gave her and her girl your blessing to remain here a minute ago," reminded Carlos.

"You and I made a deal," retorted Pete.

"One you haven't upheld," answered Carlos.

"Because we haven't gotten there yet!" bellowed Pete.

"You won't even tell me where there is," argued Carlos. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't owe you anything."

"What about all the food and water we got for you and Sarah?" asked Nick.

"You got food and water for her and her girl, I don't see either of you demanding payment from them," noted Carlos.

"We didn't fucking ask to be here!" A sharp whistle followed Christa's outburst. Everyone turned to see Walter was making the noise.

"People, please," urged Walter in a commanding voice. "Obviously, there's a lot of tension amongst your group, but I urge you to remember you have children present." Clementine looked up and caught sight of Sarah from across the table, who was clearly bothered by the argument.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" asked a worried Carlos.

"I… I just don't like it when you yell," admitted a nervous Sarah.

"May I make a suggestion?" said Walter. "Have this discussion in the morning, after a good night's sleep. Even if you can't reconcile your differences, it would be easier to agree to disagree with a rested mind." An awkward silence followed Walter's suggestion.

"I'm guessing we can keep behaved, at least for the evening, right y'all?" The rest of the group looked to Pete, silently agreeing with him.

"Very well. As host, I hereby declare all disagreements postponed until morning," proclaimed Walter in a humorous manner. "Also, any help with the dishes would be welcomed." As Clementine cleaned up her plate and cup, she couldn't help but watch as Carlos put his arm around Sarah.

"I'm sorry I yelled sweetheart," apologized Carlos, sounding ashamed as he did so. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Um, well." Sarah looked to Clementine. "Can I spend the evening with Clementine?"

"Sarah," spoke a reluctant Carlos. "I don't think that's a good idea,"

"Why not?" asked Sarah.

"It's just not."

"But why?" repeated Sarah. "She helps me. She's really cool and smart. And I really like her."

"It's just…" Carlos struggled to find an excuse. "You don't want to bother her, do you?"

"She doesn't bother me," said Clementine. "I like talking to her." Sarah smiled at Clementine, which just made Clem want to smile herself.

"I could fix up the overlook for you two if you want," suggested Walter as he collected the dishes. "You could have your own sleepover up there."

"Oh, that'd be great," said an excited Sarah.

"Yes, but, I don't think Clementine's mother would approve." Christa groaned to herself when she heard Carlos call her Clem's mother.

"You know what?" said Christa. "I don't think Clem's mom minds." Christa shot Carlos a sinister smile, who sneered in response.

"See dad?" said Sarah. "She's say it's okay."

Carlos sighed. "Well, as long as you girls promise not to talk about anything scary." Carlos looked directly at Clementine. "I guess it would be fine for the night."

"We won't," assured a weary Clementine.

"I have some sleeping bags you two can borrow for the night," said Walter. "As soon as we finish with the dishes I'll go get them."

"We'll help." Carlos gestured to Sarah, and the pair picked up the dishes and followed Walter.

"Be careful around her," said Christa to Clem.

"Who? Sarah?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah."

"I will. I don't want her to get hurt."

"I mean be careful yourself around her," clarified Christa. "You're the one I'm worried about getting hurt."

"You think Sarah would hurt me?" asked Clementine, annoyed at Christa's suggestion.

"You never know. Don't forget who her father is."

"It's kinda hard not to," grumbled Clementine. "You keep yelling at him."

"Well, come tomorrow morning we won't have to worry about him anymore," assured Christa. "You and I aren't going anywhere."

"Okay…"

"You ready?" Clementine turned to see Walter with a couple of rolled up sleeping bags under his arms, Carlos and Sarah standing beside him.

"Yeah," nodded Clem.

"Remember," Carlos said to Sarah. "If you need anything at all, you come right to me."

"I will," assured Sarah.

"And don't forget what we discussed," Carlos said to Clementine.

"I won't." Carlos looked at Clementine for a moment, then moved away. Clem watched as he and Christa exchanged glances as he passed her by.

"Come on." Sarah took Clem by the hand. "This is going to be great." Sarah led Clementine up the stairs with an unbridled enthusiasm. Reaching the top, Clem was taken aback by the view. The lodge was already very scenic, but looking down at it in its entirety was breathtaking.

"Enjoying the view?" asked Walter as he laid the sleeping bags down.

"Your place is the best," complimented Sarah. "I love your Christmas tree. It reminds me of the one we use to put up in my house, except ours had an angel on top of it instead of a star."

"Actually, there might be an angel with the leftover decorations."

"Really?" asked an excited Sarah.

"They're in the corner. Again, had to spare them Matthew's wrath." Walter gestured to a cardboard box. "Feel free to redecorate while I'll collect some essentials." Walter moved back downstairs while Sarah started digging through the box.

"Check it out." Clem watched as Sarah pulled a haloed figure in a golden dress out of the box.

"Wow," awed Clementine as she admired the ornament's details.

"Come on, let's put it on the tree." Sarah rushed over to the spot overlooking the top of the tree and reached for the star on top. "It's too far." Sarah turned to Clementine. "Maybe if you rode on my shoulders you could reach it."

"You think you could lift me?" asked Clem.

"You don't look that heavy."

"I guess we could try." Sarah knelt down and Clem carefully looped her legs onto the older girl's shoulders. Sarah wrapped her arms around Clem's legs and slowly stood up. Clem felt a little uneasy as she was carried forward, but seeing the tree grow nearer caused her to instinctively reach out towards the star. She grabbed the topper and passed it down to Sarah, who handed the angelic one up. With a little care, Clem set the heavenly observer atop the tree. Sarah took a few steps back, allowing her and Clementine to see their work in its entirety.

"It's just like home," whispered Sarah in a sentimental voice.

"Quite the creative solution." Sarah turned towards Walter as he emerged at the top of the stairs with a box in hand. Clem couldn't help but feel amused that by riding on Sarah's shoulders, she actually felt taller than someone for once.

"Thanks again for letting us stay here," said Sarah.

"And for dinner," added Clem. "You're really generous."

"Oh, not at all," insisted Walter. "This lodge, these supplies aren't ours so much as we simply discovered them first, so really, we're not giving up all that much."

"A lot of people would just keep them," commented Clementine.

"Like I said, Matthew and I have been fortunate to have plenty to eat so far. From the sounds of things, a lot of people don't even have that much, so we're always happy to share."

"A lot of people would just keep everything, even if they already had plenty," said Clem.

"Well, I guess Matthew and I are just different." Clem smiled at the man. Walter set down the box he was carrying while Sarah knelt down, allowing Clementine to step off her shoulders.

"I brought you some water if you get thirsty, a few candles and a lighter for when it gets dark. I assume you're both old enough to know not to play with them." Clem and Sarah nodded. "And…" Walter removed a box with a checkers board on the cover. "Thought you could use some entertainment for the evening."

"You don't have a chess board, do you?" asked Sarah.

"No, but we managed to make our own by cutting up sheets of paper and writing the pieces' names on the slips," explained Walter as he handed the box to Sarah. "They're in there with the checkers."

"Hey Walt," called Matthew as he came up the stairs. "Just wanted you to know I'm heading out to get an early start on playing bridge keeper for the night."

"You be careful," warned Walter.

"You worry too much," smirked Matthew.

"Only because I love you so much." Walter tenderly kissed Matthew on the lips.

"Come get me if anything happens," said Matthew. "I'll be on the far side of the bridge watching the road." Matthew headed back downstairs while Walter turned back to the girls.

"And if you two need anything, I'll just be downstairs." Walter smiled then headed back downstairs and out of sight, leaving the two girls by themselves.


	22. Slumber Party

"So, guys can kiss other guys?" asked Sarah as she opened the checkers box.

"I guess so," shrugged Clementine.

"Does that mean girls can kiss other girls?" pondered Sarah as she laid out the checkers board.

"I don't know. I guess," assumed Clem.

"Does that mean we can kiss?" asked Sarah as she collected the various handmade chess pieces.

"Uhh… do you want to kiss?" asked Clem, unsure what to think of that question.

"No, I'm just thinking out loud." Sarah started placing the pieces on the board.

"About kissing?"

"My dad says I'm at an age where I'll think about kissing and boys and things like that, and that this is the time in my life when I go from being a girl to being a woman."

"How?" wondered Clem, genuinely interested.

"I don't know. I really don't feel any different from a few years ago. Well, except for this one thing."

"What thing?" Sarah tensed up. Looking at her, Clem noticed she looked a little embarrassed. "Is it something bad?"

"It's definitely not good," said Sarah in an uncomfortable voice.

"What is it?"

"Um… I'll tell you about it when you get older."

"If I ever get any older."

"Clementine," exclaimed a concerned Sarah. "Why do you say things like that?"

"I don't know. It just feels like I'm going to be little forever, and I'm sick of it."

"You're only going to be little for a little while. You should enjoy it. Once you grow up you'll never be little again."

"Kinda hard to enjoy being little anymore, now that everything's changed."

"I guess that's true," conceded Sarah. "I… I never saw one that close before."

"You mean the walker?" asked Clem.

"Yeah. They're… they really are… dead," surmised a nervous Sarah. "But they keep moving. How is that possible?"

"I have no idea," answered Clem.

"Why do they want to hurt people?"

"I don't know."

"Where did they come from?"

"I don't know that either."

"And they're just everywhere now?"

"Yeah, they are," answered Clem in a weak voice.

"Have you seen a lot of them before?"

"Thousands…" Clementine looked at Sarah and saw she was becoming frightened. "Let's not talk about walkers."

"Yeah… that's a good idea. Let's just have fun tonight." Sarah turned to the checkerboard covered in crudely made chess pieces. "You can go first."

"Umm…" Clem looked down at the slips of paper with words like 'pawn' and 'bishop' written on them in utter bewilderment. "Actually, I don't really know how to play. My dad was going to teach me, but…"

"Well, I could teach you," suggested Sarah. "The pawns can only move forward." Sarah gestured to the front row of pieces, which were entirely pawns. "You can move them one space forward per turn. Except if it's the first time they've moved, then they go ahead two spaces. Now you can only move them forward in a straight line, but they can only take other pieces diagonally."

"Does that mean they can move backwards diagonally?"

"No, they can only capture pieces one space diagonally forward," explained Sarah. "Now, if you get one to the other side, you can choose to—"

"Do you think we could just play checkers instead?" suggested Clem, finding the rules of a single chess piece somewhat intimidating.

"Sure." Sarah collected the chess pieces.

"I'm sorry, It's just—"

"It's cool," assured Sarah as she started setting checkers on the board. "Chess is kinda complicated, but it's super fun once you learn how. Maybe I can teach you some other time."

"Sure." Clementine watched as Sarah finished setting up the board.

"Do you want to play where you have to jump a piece if you can?"

"I always played it where you didn't have to jump."

"Okay, we'll do that. You want to go first?"

"Sure." Clem picked one of her pieces and moved it forward.

"So, what did you think of dinner?"

"It was the best meal I've had in a really long time," professed Clem.

"Yeah, it was pretty good," said Sarah as she moved a piece.

"Only pretty good?"

"Well, the place we stayed before had really good food most of the time," explained Sarah. "It was great having milk again though, even if it was powdered."

"I didn't even use to like milk really," admitted Clem. "But now, I'd be glad to have more of it."

"What do you miss eating most?"

"I guess ice cream. I used to love ice cream."

"Even though you didn't like milk?"

"Yeah, I know. My mom used to tease me about that." Clem paused as she started thinking about her parents again.

"Clem," said Sarah. "It's your move."

"Right." Clem jumped one of Sarah's pieces.

"I miss having bread most."

"Really? Why?"

"Because you can do so much with it," explained Sarah. "You can toast it, make sandwiches with it, dip it in soup, or cheese, or lots of things really."

"Yeah, but then you would need all that stuff too," noted Clem as she moved a piece.

"That's true." Sarah leapt one of Clementine's pieces. "What do you miss most from before?"

Clementine pondered the question. "Everything," she answered in a dispirited tone.

"Yeah, me too," agreed a weary Sarah. "But if you had to pick one thing to get back, and it couldn't be something big like electricity, what would you pick?"

"I don't know. What would you pick?"

"I'd just like to have a hot shower again."

"Really?"

"Yeah, when I couldn't sleep I'd use to take a hot shower and it would help me relax. But now there isn't running water anymore."

"I use to hate taking a bath. I never thought I would miss that. I miss a lot of things I didn't use to like."

"But what did you like?"

"Well, it would be nice if we still had TV. I used to love watching cartoons with my dad on the weekends."

"Did you ever watch any Disney movies?"

"Yeah."

"Which one was your favorite?"

"Um, probably Bambi."

"Oh, but that one's so sad," said Sarah. "His mom dies and people burn down the forest."

"Those parts were sad, but he also falls in love, and has kids, and at the end of the movie he's helping to keep the forest safe," said Clem. "Which one was your favorite?"

"Cinderella."

"Why that one?"

"Because she was a really good person even when her stepsisters and stepmother were really mean to her. You didn't like it?"

"It was okay," shrugged Clem. "I just never really got the fairy godmother. Why didn't she just come sooner?"

"Maybe she couldn't?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know," shrugged Sarah. "Maybe she only comes when you really need it? Like, she's watching out for the people who tried their hardest and never got what they wanted?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Clementine watched as Sarah jumped another one of her pieces.

"King me." Clem placed a checker on top of Sarah's piece. "You know what I wish I still had that we could get?"

"What?"

"A toothbrush. I left mine at the cabin and now I'm not going to be able to brush my teeth until I get a new one."

"You actually want to brush your teeth?"

"Yeah, my dad said it's more important to brush my teeth than ever."

"And you believe that?" asked Clem in a droll tone, surprised by Sarah's priorities.

"Of course. He said if I get a cavity now, I can't go to a dentist, and I'd be stuck with a sore tooth forever. Then it would hurt every time I'd eat, and there'd be nothing I could do about it."

"Huh." Sarah's observation made Clem reconsider her own priorities. "Now I wish I had a toothbrush."

"My dad said I won't get any more teeth, so I got to take care of them."

"One of mine is loose actually."

"That's right, you still got baby teeth. When it comes out you should put it under your pillow. The tooth fairy will give you five dollars for it," suggested Sarah. "Oh wait, we don't use money anymore. Hmm, I wonder if she gives out something different now?"

"You believe in the tooth fairy?" asked a surprised Clem.

"You don't?"

"No. It's like believing in Santa." Sarah's face dropped upon hearing that comparison. "You still believe in Santa too?"

"You… you don't?" asked Sarah in a confused voice.

"No. When I was six I stayed up really late to see him and found out it was just my parents putting presents under the tree."

"Oh." Sarah looked crushed.

"I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

"I… I think I kinda did actually," confessed Sarah. "I always thought it was weird my dad would buy me lots of birthday presents, but only a few for Christmas and let Santa bring me the rest. I… I guess I'm too old to believe in stuff like that anymore."

"Well, dead people are moving around. So, unbelievable things do happen," reasoned Clementine. "Although, what did you think when Santa didn't bring you anything this year?" Sarah suddenly looked very guilty. "Wait, you didn't get anything for Christmas this year, did you?"

"When I woke up on Christmas morning there were all these new books and this jacket stacked up against my bed," explained Sarah as she tugged at her coat.

"Really?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah, when I saw that, I thought Santa was really real, and maybe things were still good. But it was probably just my dad. He probably put that money under my pillow too." Sarah's face sank. "This sucks. Santa and the tooth fairy aren't real, but monsters are?" Hearing Sarah say it out loud like that made Clementine realize how absurd their situation was.

"It's bullshit." Clem looked to Sarah for the inevitable scolding, but the older girl had no reaction to hearing Clem swear this time.

"Yeah…" said Sarah in a downtrodden voice as she moved one of her pieces. "King me."

"I'm sorry," apologized Clem as she kinged Sarah's piece. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's not fair that so many bad things are real."

"It's not just that," Clem watched as Sarah seemed to grow irritated. "I really bugs me that my dad lied to me."

"Well, it's not like he's the only one to tell his kid about Santa," reasoned Clem. "I was kinda mad too when I found out. But when I went back to school after Christmas, I heard some of the other kids talk about all the stuff Santa brought them and how happy it made them, and realized my parents were just trying to make me happy too."

"Or they just want kids to be good. I mean, that must be why they tell us Santa won't bring you anything if you're bad, so you'll behave all year," realized an embittered Sarah. "It's just a way to trick us into doing what they say."

"I… I don't think that's why they do it," said Clem, unsure of her answer. "I think it's just a way to… surprise us."

"You really think so?" asked Sarah, clearly unconvinced.

"Well." Clem struggled to think of a rationale. "Did your dad tell you to be good this Christmas?"

"Actually, he said Santa probably wouldn't make it this year," recounted Sarah. "That was about a week before Christmas."

"And he still got you presents, even though it's a lot harder, and didn't even tell you it was him," listed Clementine. "And he gave you money when you lost your teeth. He was trying to make you happy. Not trick you."

"Yeah, I guess so. Still kinda bothers me though. Even if he was just trying to make me happy, he still lied to me," realized Sarah. "Do you think there's anything else he's not telling me?"

"Um…" Clementine felt herself struggling to think of something to tell Sarah, despite knowing the answer.

"Do you know anything else he hasn't told me?"

"No," hastily lied Clementine.

"But you think there's things he's not telling me," concluded Sarah.

"Maybe, but, that doesn't mean it's anything bad." Clem found herself nearly choking on her tongue saying that. "I mean, you don't tell him everything. You haven't told him about my gun, have you?" Clementine tensed up as she asked that question, realizing she wasn't sure of the answer.

"No." Clem breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't want to get us into trouble."

"See? We keep secrets too. Sometimes, it's just easier not to tell people everything," explained Clem in a somber tone.

"I guess you're right," said Sarah in a warmer voice. "I know my dad loves me, so I shouldn't worry."

"Did you really get five dollars a tooth?"

"Yeah. What'd you get?"

"I'd only get a dollar."

"I'm sorry. If I had any money, I'd give it to you." Sarah jumped two pieces. "King me." Clementine looked down at the board and realized how poor her chances of winning were.

"Wow, you're really good at this."

"Do you want me to let you win?" offered Sarah.

"No," rejected a defensive Clem. "I just… gotta try harder."

"Okay." Clementine started eyeing the board more carefully. "Do you want a brother or a sister?"

"Huh?"

"Your mom's baby," clarified Sarah. "Would you rather have a brother or a sister?"

"I don't know." Clem considered the question. "I always did want a sister. But I'd be happy if it was a boy too. What about you? Did you ever want brothers or sisters?"

"Yeah."

"Brother or sister?"

"Either, or both even. I love my dad, but he had to work a lot, so sometimes I'd get lonely. Do you ever feel lonely?"

"Yeah, I do." Clem sighed as Sarah moved one of her kings. Looking at the board, Clementine saw that Sarah's last move had given her a huge opportunity. Clementine jumped two kings and one other checker to reach the end of the board.

"King me," said Clem triumphantly.

"That was great." Clementine found it odd Sarah was smiling so much as she kinged Clem's piece.

"You didn't let me do that on purpose, did you?" Sarah's face practically screamed guilty. "I told you not to let me win."

"I didn't, you haven't won yet," smiled Sarah. "I'm just giving you a chance to win, but I'm not letting you win."

"You're not?" asked a dubious Clementine.

"Nope," smiled Sarah. "My dad used to do this for me when I played chess with him. He said he'd give me opportunities, but he wouldn't tell me about them, so I'd always have to pay attention."

"But he doesn't do that anymore?"

"He told me he didn't have to anymore." Sarah moved one of her pieces. The odd smile on her face felt infectious, causing Clementine to smile.

"Sarah, do you still want to be friends?"

"Of course," answered an overjoyed Sarah. "But wait, your mom says she doesn't want to stay here if me and my dad stay. So, we might not be together after tonight." Clementine hadn't thought of that. She looked at Sarah and saw the excitement in her eyes dim with every passing second.

"Wanna be friends anyway?" suggested Clem. "Even if it's just tonight?"

"I'd love to," answered a touched Sarah. "Oh, but we got to do it right."

"Do it right?"

Sarah held out her pinky. "You gotta swear you and I will always be friends."

"Even though we might not see each other again after tomorrow." Clem chuckled as she held out her pinky, only for Sarah to pull hers back.

"I'm serious," said Sarah in a thoughtful tone. "I want to know you really do care about me and that you want to be together. Because I care about you and if you leave tomorrow, I'd still think about you even if we never meet again. So, I only want you to do this if you feel like that about me."

Clementine was surprised by just how significant this seemed to be to Sarah. She watched as the older girl moved her hand back towards her, the pinky still extended. Looking at Sarah, Clem could see the anticipation brimming in her eyes and the nervousness hanging on her face. The weight of what Sarah said felt as if it was holding Clem's arm in place, and yet Clementine found herself pushing it forward anyway, crossing pinkies with Sarah before locking them together tightly in each other's grasp.

"A pinky swear is forever," whispered a passionate Sarah.

"Then I guess we'll be friends forever." Clem found herself oddly content staring at the warm expression on Sarah's face while clutching her pinky. Seeing her newly christened friend bathed in the same evening sunlight that made the tree's angel glisten brought a tranquility to Clementine's heart that had been absent for longer than she could remember.

"So… um… do you want to keep playing?" asked Sarah, still giddy from the promise.

"Of course." Clementine gently released Sarah's pinky and looked down at the board. "I still think I can win."

"What if you don't?" asked Sarah in a playful voice.

"Then we'll have to play again," answered an equally playful Clem.

"What if you don't win that one either?"

"Then I guess we'll just have to keep playing."

"And if you still don't win?"

"Then I guess we'll have to play all night."


	23. Keep Your Enemies Closer

Clementine opened her eyes. It was dark now, but there was enough light from the fireplace to look around. Something had roused her unexpectedly from her sleep. Her first instinct was that Sarah was trying to wake her, as it felt like something had shaken her. But Sarah was still in her sleeping bag, exactly where Clem remembered her being before turning in.

Listening closely, Clementine could hear voices. Looking over the handrail she could see a couple of figures standing by the front door, but she couldn't make out what they were saying from the distance. She headed for the stairs, but stopped when she noticed her backpack sitting by the sleeping bag. Clem quickly slipped it and her hat on, then crept down the stairs as quietly as she could.

Moving through the living area she could see Pete asleep on the sofa. As she neared the front entrance, Clem ducked underneath the dinner table for cover. Moving beneath the table, she could see Christa and Walter standing near the front door as she neared the other end.

"I understand your concern," whispered Walter. "But what you're suggesting—"

"These people are dangerous," insisted Christa in a hushed voice. "I told you what they did to us. We've basically been their hostages and I don't know what they've been telling Clementine, but they've got her so scared she won't even think about leaving them." Clementine grimaced upon hearing Christa's assessment of her.

"But I don't think this is the answer," said Walter.

"Then what?" asked Christa. "These people are being followed and if Carlos stays here, they'll bring whatever they're running from here, just like they did to my home. You need to—"

"He needs to what?" Clementine watched in shock as Carlos stepped into the dim light. "Please, do continue."

"Right now, we just need to talk," reassured Walter in a calm voice. "All three of us."

"Have you just been standing there in the dark, spying on us?" accused Christa.

"Perhaps you'd rather I skulk around behind people's backs like you?" accused Carlos in a biting tone. "Did she mention how her husband tried to kill me just for asking for help?"

"You weren't asking me," asserted Christa. "And you were the one with a man lying in wait to kill one of us."

"Did she also tell you how she gave her girl a gun?"

"To protect herself from the likes of you."

"Look, I don't know what happened between you two before, but whatever it was, there's no reason to make it worse now," insisted a nervous Walter. "Let's just, keep talking."

"I think we're done talking," stated Carlos in a sinister voice.

"What'd ya know, we actually agree for once," retorted Christa through gritted teeth.

"Please, just listen to me." Walter's plea seemed to fall on deaf ears as Christa and Carlos stared each other down, both waiting for the other to make a move. Clementine felt her stomach tying itself into a knot as she watched the whole scene unfold from under the table. A sense of panic shot up her spine when she noticed Carlos was holding something behind his back. It was Pete's revolver.

Clem instinctively removed her backpack and reached into it for her own gun. But feeling around, she couldn't find it. She looked into the bag and realized something else alarming; her gun was missing.

"Let's just sit down, all of us," advised Walter. "Whatever this is, we can still—" Carlos drew his pistol, prompting Christa to draw hers. The pair took aim as Walter placed himself between them.

"Get out of the way Walter!" ordered Christa.

"This isn't your concern!" dictated Carlos.

"You're pointing guns at each other in my home, this absolutely concerns me." Walter found himself awkwardly repositioning himself as Christa and Carlos kept trying to aim past him. "I've given you both food and shelter, the least you can do is listen to me now when I say, please, put your guns down."

"Him first," insisted Christa.

"So you can finally make good on your promise to kill me?" retorted Carlos.

"No one is killing anyone," asserted Walter.

"She's been saying she'd kill us this entire time!" bellowed Carlos.

"Because you fuckers killed the man I love!" yelled Christa.

"Just stop!" commanded Walter.

"She won't stop," growled Carlos.

"And there's only way to stop him." Christa and Carlos sidestepped Walter, guns trained on each other.

"Dad?" Carlos looked up to see his daughter watching the scene from the overlook. "What… what are you doing?"

"Sarah it's… it's okay," insisted Carlos, his voice trembling.

"Why do you both have guns? Why are you pointing them at each other?" asked a panicked Sarah.

"We're…" Carlos found himself at a complete loss for words.

"You gonna shoot someone in front of your own daughter?" mocked Christa.

"Are you?" Clementine emerged from her hiding spot.

"Clementine?" exclaimed Christa. "How long—"

"Since right after you took my gun," concluded an angry Clem.

"Think about how what you're doing will affect them," instructed Walter. "Both of them." Christa and Carlos found themselves focusing on Clementine and Sarah, unable to look away from the girls.

"Ask yourselves, what do you stand to gain from pulling that trigger?" said Walter. "What will you do after that? What will you think when you're standing over the other's body? How will you explain what you did to these two girls? When they ask you, both of them, why you did it, what will you tell them?"

Carlos looked at his daughter, unable to ignore the fear and confusion in her eyes. Christa however found herself struggling to even look Clementine in the eyes, the condemnation of the small girl's angry glare filling her with shame. Turning to Carlos, Christa saw a familiar sense of regret and uncertainty on his face. The pair just studied each other in silence until, finally, they lowered their guns.

Walter breathed a sigh of relief as Sarah bounded down the stairs. She ran across the lodge and immediately threw her arms around her father, sobbing as he put his arm around her.

"It's okay. It's okay," repeated Carlos in a shaken voice. "We weren't going to hurt each other. We were just… arguing."

"You don't do that," cried Sarah. "You don't point guns at things you don't want to shoot. You could have killed her by accident."

"I know sweetheart, I know." Carlos moved his hand up and down Sarah's back in an attempt to soothe her. "I shouldn't have done that. It was a mistake."

Clementine crossed her arms as Christa approached her, the woman's shameful shuffle doing nothing to curb the girl's displeasure with her.

"Here." Christa offered Clementine her pistol back, who took it without so much as a word. "It's probably just better if you hold onto it instead of me."

"I was," noted a bitter Clem.

"Yeah…" conceded Christa in a weak voice. "I should have just left it that way."

"What the hell is going on?" asked a still sleepy Pete as he approached the group. "What are y'all hollering about now?" Pete noticed his pistol in Carlos's hand. "The fuck are you doing with my gun?" Carlos offered it back, which Pete snatched in a flash. "Just who do you think—"

"Pete," interjected Walter as he stepped in between the two. "I think it'd be for the best if we sat down and discussed everything that's happened up until now." Walter turned to the others. "All of us."

"That's gonna be a helluva lot of explaining," noted Pete.

"Let's just start somewhere simple," suggested Walter. "Why are you people out here?" Bright lights beamed in through the front windows, nearly blinding the group.

"Is that…"


	24. George

Deafening shots and glass shattering rang out through the lodge. Clementine dove under the table for cover. She started crawling forward, when a section of the table in front her erupted from a shotgun blast. Clementine covered her ears as blast after blast sounded around her, petrifying her. She heard people running and shouting, followed by more gunshots. From under the table she could just barely see Pete dive for cover behind the couch.

Clementine tried moving towards him from under the table, but another volley of earsplitting shots stopped Clem in her tracks. She watched as someone very tall and very big fired three more shots at the top of the couch while approaching it, almost as if he wasn't trying to hit Pete himself. The mountain of a man swung around the couch just in time to meet Pete as he came out of cover to attack. They froze as they locked eyes, their guns waiting at the ready.

"Bill was so sure I wouldn't find you," growled the man in a deep voice. "But like I told him, Pete may not be stupid, but Pete's predictable. Doddering old fool couldn't do anything without rambling out loud about it first."

Clementine inched closer for a better look. The man had dark skin and a very long black beard that stopped just short of his bulging stomach. He wore a thick camouflage trench coat with a matching skull cap. He positively towered over Pete, his massive paws loosely gripping a long black shotgun as if it were nothing important. Looking at the terrifying man, Clementine couldn't help assuming that this was George.

"I knew you were hiding something during all those long trips up north. And when you didn't come for it I knew you lay low in the woods. Still, I was thinking you might put up more of a chase than this. You practically left us a damn trail to follow." Pete kept silent, staring at George with his hands tightly wrapped around his revolver. "Then again, you never did know when you were beat."

Pete drew his gun, but George knocked it clear out of his hand with a swift and vicious swing of the barrel of his own gun. George smashed the butt of his gun into Pete's face before planting his foot in Pete's chest, kicking the older man into a wall. As the bloodied Pete hit the floor, he looked up at something in desperation.

"Sarah grab it!" Clem spun her head around and saw a horrified Sarah trembling in the corner, Pete's gun lying at her feet. "Hurry! Get—" George kicked Pete in the chest just as Sarah reached for the wayward revolver. Just as she picked it up, George spun around and took aim. Clem watched in horror as George pulled the trigger, prompting Sarah to scream out in terror.

A loud clicked sounded from George's gun, but nothing else. He hastily pulled the trigger twice more, producing two more clicks before examining the weapon in surprise. He tossed the empty gun aside and marched toward the terrified teenager.

"Fucking shoot him Sarah!" Pete's order reached the girl, who took hold of the pistol and pointed it right at George, stopping the man in his tracks. Looking at a whimpering Sarah trying to steady her hands, Clem suddenly remembered her own gun. She turned around and saw it just behind her, not realizing she even dropped it. She reached out for it when she heard a new voice.

"Drop the gun kid!" Clementine froze in place. She looked over her shoulder and saw a man with a pistol, aiming at Sarah.

"Put her down Byron!" ordered George.

"No!" Carlos's scream spurred Clementine into action. She grabbed her pistol and spun around just in time to see the other man cocking the hammer on his gun.

"Kid! Drop the damn gun!" Clementine couldn't see this Byron person's face from under the table, so she aimed at his chest. Just as she thought she had the shot, Pete lunged at Byron with a knife, moving right into the line of fire. Clem hastily lowered her gun just as Byron moved backwards with shocking speed, training his gun on Pete instead.

"Drop it before I put one between your eyes!" commanded Byron.

"You ain't got it in you boy!" yelled Pete.

"Fucking try me you goddamn traitor!"

"Just cover Pete," ordered George. "You ain't gonna shoot that girl any more than she's gonna shoot me." Clementine watched as George lurched towards Sarah, who was still holding out Pete's revolver, her hands shaking uncontrollably. George knelt down and very calmly placed his hand on the gun, finally stopping it from shaking. Clem felt sick as she watched George pull it out of Sarah's grip with ease, and had to close her eyes as George smashed the butt of the gun into the side of Sarah's head.

"Drop it Pete." Clementine listened in horror to the sounds of a knife hitting the floor and Sarah shrieking pain. Opening her eyes she could see Pete and Sarah's legs pass by as they were forced towards the front door by George and Byron. Looking out at the other end of the table, she could see what she thought was Walter and Carlos being held by two more people. But she couldn't see any sign of Christa, dead or alive.

"What did you do to her!" Clem heard Carlos yell. As she watched everyone gather near the front door, Clem sensed an opportunity. She turned back to the stairs and edged as close to them as possible without moving out from under the table.

"She's lucky I didn't do a whole lot worse." Hearing George's guttural voice provided the last bit of motivation Clementine needed. She darted out from under the table, trying to stay low to the ground. She moved around the edge of the stairs and stopped suddenly, her heart pounding against the side of her chest.

"And I'll do worse still if either of you open your damn mouth again." Clementine started moving up the stairs as quietly as she could, desperate to get away somehow. Just as she reached the top, she felt a powerful hand cover her mouth while another grabbed her shoulder.

"It's me." The hands released her and Clem spun around to find Christa. She instinctively wrapped her arms around the woman, who did likewise. "Thank God you're alive," whispered Christa as she squeezed Clem tightly.

"What do we do?" whispered Clementine.

"I don't know," confessed Christa.

"I've still got my gun. Do you think you could shoot them from up here?"

"How many are there?"

"I think four, at least."

"I don't like those odds, and that's assuming there's not more of them." Christa looked at the gun in Clem's hand. "But we don't have many options." Clem handed the gun to Christa.

"If you try to shoot them, shoot the big man first," instructed a frightened Clem.

"Which one is he?" whispered Christa.

"You'll know him when you see him." The pair crept to the edge of the waist high wall that bordered the overlook as quietly as they could.

"What do you people want from us?" asked a horrified Walter.

"Everything," answered a distraught Pete. "They want it all. Including us."

"Where's that spineless nephew of yours?" bellowed George.

"Dead," answered Pete. "Lost him to the lurkers on the second night."

"Like fuck," scoffed George. "He's around."

"I think I saw a woman when we came in too," added Byron.

"And the man you and Consuelo let slip by makes three," counted George. "All though he's probably in no shape to do anything."

"What man?" asked a distressed Walter "What did you do to him?" Looking over the edge of the wall, Clementine and Christa saw almost everyone they knew, tucked into a corner, on their knees, with their hands tied behind their backs, guarded by George and a small gray-haired woman dressed in black.

"Maude, hold back with me while Byron and Tom finish searching the place," ordered George as he examined Pete's gun. "I'm gonna wanna talk to the rest of our guests." Christa quite easily identified 'the big man' and took aim at George.

"Up top!" A gunshot struck the bannister right next to where Clem was standing. She and Christa ducked behind the wall for cover. "Show us your hands! Right now!" Christa eyed the window and quickly moved over to it.

"Fucking sick of windows that only open halfway," grumbled Christa as she slid the window up. "You could make it."

"But what do I do?"

"Sounds like Matthew and Nick are still out there. Try and find them."

"What if I don't find them?"

"Then… just keep going."

"What about you?" Clem felt a horrible sense of dread in her stomach as she heard people marching up the stairs.

"Hurry," insisted a tearful Christa. Clem moved onto the window sill, but couldn't stop herself from looking back. "Just go Clem." Clem turned away and forced herself off the window sill. She fell through the air and landed on her feet, but the force of the fall caused her to tumble forward onto the dirt. As she stood up she heard something hit the ground next to her, it was her gun. Looking up she saw the window was closed now and could even hear muffled voices from inside the lodge. Clem couldn't stop herself from thinking about what was happening to Christa, but she reasoned the lack of gunshots was a good sign.

Clementine picked up her gun and started sneaking around the side of the lodge. She moved to the nearest corner, taking great care to duck under the windows. Reaching the end of the wall, Clem slowly peeked around the corner. She didn't see anyone, but Clem did see the dirt road that ran next to the lodge, which would hopefully take her to Nick or Matthew.

"Whatcha looking at?" Clem looked over her shoulder to find a thin woman with dark hair, a wicked smile and a lot of odd piercings standing over her. "Ain't it past your bedtime?" Clem's first instinct was to run, but the woman immediately wrapped her arm around Clem's neck, securing her in a headlock. Clem tried to aim her gun, but the woman grabbed hold of it as Clem moved her hand. "Now what do you think you're doing with this?" As she tried to wrestle the gun away, Clem noticed her attacker had wrapped her thumb around the barrel. "You're gonna hurt yourself with that. Didn't anyone—"

Clem pulled the trigger. What followed was a gunshot and lot of high pitched shrieking intermixed with a long string of profanities. Turning around, Clementine found herself stunned by the surreal sight of the woman scooping her bloody thumb off the dirt with the same hand it was previously attached to.

"You cock sucking little whore!" The woman dropped her thumb and removed a small shotgun from her back. Clem dove past the side of the building just in time to hear a chunk of the wall explode behind her. Clementine immediately jumped to her feet and started sprinting for the road. Just as she reached the edge of the building, Clem watched as a balding man in gray came around the corner.

"Hey!" Another blast sent bits of wooden shrapnel flying out of the wall directly in front of Clementine. The man ducked back behind the building while Clem sprinted towards the woods.

"You trying to kill me!" yelled a man's voice.

"Get that fucking bitch so I can shove this thing right up her scrawny ass!" Clem weaved past trees, stumbled over roots, nearly tripped over rocks and all the while desperately trying to navigate the dark woods. Her legs ached, her heart was beating out of her chest and her lungs were desperate for air, but Clem kept running as fast as she could. She thought she'd never stop, then something grabbed her.

Clementine fell face first onto the hard dirt, her gun bouncing out of her hand. Still reeling from the painful spill, Clementine tried crawling after her gun, only for something to grab her ankles. Twisting in place, Clem could see the man in gray was dragging her by her feet.

Clem tried digging her fingers into the dirt, but it did nothing to slow her attacker down. Clem latched onto a tree root, gripping the wood for dear life. A sharp pain shot through Clem's wounded arm as the man tried to pull her free, and a forceful tug ripped the wood from her grip. Clem searched for anything to hold onto and found a rock in her grip. She grabbed the stone just as another forceful tug sent her back several feet.

Clem started flailing about as she felt someone grab her wrist. She managed to flip over and smash the rock into the man's eye. As he reeled backwards, Clem jumped up and ran towards her gun. She only made it a few feet before something shoved her head into the side of a tree.

Clementine collapsed onto the ground. Her head was aching and she had trouble seeing clearly. She pulled herself to her knees, only to receive a hard blow to her stomach. Clementine rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach, gasping for air. A forceful shove against her shoulder rolled Clementine onto her back. Before she could even see what was happening, something began bearing down on her throat.

Looking up, Clem could see the man in gray, stepping on her neck. Clementine tried pushing his foot off, but she couldn't. She started clawing at the man's shoe in desperation, struggling to do anything. The force on her throat made it impossible to breathe, and soon the image of the man in gray begin to dim as Clem felt the strength draining out of her body. She opened her mouth to beg him to stop, but couldn't make a sound. Clem's eye began to well up as she felt herself suffocating.

"What now you little retard?"


	25. Death in the Family

Clementine felt as if she had been buried alive. Everything was dark, she couldn't move her arms or legs because something was pinning them to the ground, and she couldn't breathe because something was smothering her now instead of choking her. She tried screaming, but whatever was on top of her was muffling the noise she was making. Panic racked Clem's mind as she felt helpless.

Without warning, the darkness lifted, revealing a blurry night sky. Clementine started gasping for air as she felt whatever was crushing her disappear suddenly. She started stretching her arms, then her legs, feeling a sense of relief as she could move again. Slowly she sat up, still feeling light headed, as if she was in a dream almost. As she looked up she saw a blurry figure standing over her.

Clem panicked. She spun around and started crawling towards her gun as the person started shouting something to her she couldn't understand. She grabbed hold of the pistol, but immediately another pair of hands started prying it from her grip.

"No! No! No!" chanted a disoriented Clementine as she desperately tried to hold onto the gun. Despite her bests efforts, the gun was ripped from her hands. Clem fell onto her back and threw her arms in front of her face in a desperate attempt to protect herself. "Please… please don't kill me!" begged a hysterical Clem.

"Snap out of it." Clem recognized that voice. She moved her arms and saw someone familiar standing over her. "It's just me, okay?"

"Nick?" Clementine looked up at the young man. He had her gun in his hand and a worried look on his face. "What… what happened?" asked Clem, utterly confused.

"I… I shot the guy attacking you." Clem turned her head and saw the lifeless body of the man in gray, a significant portion of his forehead missing. "He fell right on top of you. So I pulled him off," explained Nick. "What was he doing to you?"

"I… I was going to die," muttered a shell-shocked Clementine. "He… he was killing me." This revelation seemed to disturb Nick almost as much as Clementine herself.

"Jesus Christ," Nick muttered to himself as he tucked Clem's pistol into his waistband. "Are you okay?"

"I… I guess so," answered Clem. "I just—"

"Greg, come back," cackled a familiar voice from the direction of the man in gray. Looking at his corpse, Clem noticed the radio on his hip. "Greg, we heard a shot. You get that damn girl Consuelo won't shut the fuck up about?"

"Oh fuck, it is George," realized a terrified Nick. "What happened?"

"They've got everyone tied up at the lodge, except Matthew," reported Clem.

"How many?"

"There were four at the lodge. And outside was this man, and some woman."

"Shit, that means there's at least five left," muttered Nick.

"What do we do?" Nick didn't answer, his face almost blank.

"Greg! Pick up you piece of shit!"

"We… we gotta do something," said Nick, his voice shaking. "They're gonna come looking for us, but, maybe I can get a jump on them. If we go back now, maybe I can get them from a distance. It's dark, and they wouldn't be able to see me too well."

"They turned on some big light when they came in," said Clem.

"Probably the headlights from the truck they came in," explained Nick. "That'll make it easier for me to spot them. If they don't see us, then maybe I got a chance. You okay to walk?"

"Yeah, I can walk," answered Clem as she stood up.

"Keep your eyes open." The pair headed back towards the lodge, slowly negotiating back through the woods, afraid if they moved too quickly they would give themselves away. As the lodge came into sight, Nick held up his hand, indicating Clem to halt.

"Okay, do you think you could be my spotter?" whispered Nick.

"Spotter?" asked Clem.

"Just, keep a lookout. Okay?" clarified Nick. "I can't see much when I'm looking through the scope, so you need to watch my back. If you see something coming, you need to tell me." Nick handed Clementine his binoculars. "And if you see any of them, tell me where. You can handle that, right?"

"Yeah, I think so." Nick took little comfort from that answer.

"All right, let's do this." The pair marched forward, stopping near a big tree at the edge of the forest. Looking out, Clem could see a large box truck parked outside the front door of the lodge, its headlights illuminating the parts of the interior Clem could see through the windows.

"Okay, stay alert," instructed Nick in a quiet voice. "Those gunshots have been drawing out lurkers." Clem looked through the binoculars at the lodge, searching the big windows for any sign of the others.

"You sure they're in there?" asked Nick as he looked through his scope.

"Maybe they left?"

"Not for good. No way they'd leave a truck behind."

"Last I saw, they had everyone in the corner, near the front door."

"All right. Maybe we can—" Someone stumbled by one of the windows. "Pete!"

"You sure?" Clem asked Nick.

"Yeah. Maybe he got loose. Or…" Clem watched as George moved in front of the window. "This is it! If I can get George—" George hoisted Pete off the ground by his collar and slammed him against the window. "Shit, Pete's blocking the shot."

"He knows we're here," concluded Clem.

"No. The fucker's torturing him." Clem watched as George started beating Pete with his own pistol.

"Why... why's he's doing that?"

"Like he needs a reason." Nick knelt down and steadied his aim. "But I've got the shot, as soon as he drops Pete. Just keep a lookout." Clem lowered the binoculars and surveyed her surroundings. She didn't see anything in front of the lodge, or through any of the windows. Looking back into the forest though she could hear something off in the distance. Using the binoculars she could see someone in the distance approaching.

"I think someone is coming." Clem watched closely and saw whoever it was seemed to be shuffling around in a very familiar fashion. "It's a walker."

"How far?" asked Nick without looking up.

"I don't know. Kinda far, I guess," answered Clem.

"I'll get it in a second," stated Nick. "If he hears a shot now, George will know to keep away from the windows." Clementine watched as the walker drew gradually closer. Before long she found it easier to see without the binoculars than with them.

"Nick, it's coming right for us," whispered a nervous Clementine.

"Just give me a few more seconds," demanded Nick, his voice dripping with anxiety. "George is gonna let up any second. And then, he's dead." Clem saw sweat rolling down Nick's face. Looking back to the walker, she saw it was probably less than twenty feet away now, and getting closer. Clementine noticed her gun sticking out of Nick's waistband. She was about to grab it, when she spotted Nick's knife.

Considering what Nick said about a gunshot tipping off George, Clem carefully removed Nick's knife without disturbing him and moved towards the walker. It was on the short side, so Clem figured she could get it in the eye. She gripped the knife with both hands, ready to strike as the walker loomed over her. Remembering what Pete said about being faster, Clem lurched forward and thrust the blade at the walker's head.

The blade pierced the walker's cheek at an odd angle, missing most of the skull. Clem hastily tried to pull the knife out and instead pulled the whole walker down, pinning herself to the ground on her back. She tried pushing the walker off with the knife, but it sank in up to the hilt. Clem screamed in terror as the horrid corpse started snapping its jaw inches away from her face, jerking the hilt of the knife about despite the girl's best attempts to hold it still.

A gunshot ripped through the side of the walker's head, allowing Clem to escape from under it. She scurried back to her feet to find Nick holding her pistol. He quickly tossed it aside, grabbed his rifle and fired.

"Shit!" Nick cocked the rifle while Clem grabbed the binoculars. "He heard that shot. If you weren't—" Clementine watched as Pete lunged at a wounded George. He wrested the gun out of George's hand and took aim. A shot sounded and blood spattered onto the window, but not in the direction Pete was aiming his gun at.

"What happened? Did Pete just—" The sound of Nick firing again nearly deafened Clem. It was immediately followed by another shot in quick succession. "What are you doing!" shouted Clementine.

"That son of a bitch bastard!" rambled a frenzied Nick. "I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him!" Clementine flinched as Nick fired off another shot.

"Stop it!" ordered Clem.

"I've got to stop him. I…" Nick took aim at the front of the lodge as something emerged from inside. "Come on asshole. Give me an opening." Clementine looked through the binoculars and saw as Walter was being led out of the building at gunpoint by Byron. He took great care to stay hidden behind Walter, using the man as a human shield.

"Come on you fat fuck!" taunted Nick. "There ain't anyone big enough to cover your giant ass!" Carlos was next, held hostage by a man in red Clem didn't recognize. Then Sarah, held by the short older woman George called Maude. All three pairs were heading towards the truck. "Come on!" Clementine watched in horror as she saw George emerge next, using Christa as a shield. "Bout fucking time." Nick cocked his rifle.

"No!" yelled Clementine. "They'll kill her! You'll get everyone killed!"

"I'll get George killed. That's what I'm going to do." Clementine dropped the binoculars and grabbed the barrel of the rifle.

"Let go goddammit!" ordered Nick as he tried to pull the rifle out of Clem's grip.

"You've got to stop!" screamed Clem. "They'll kill everyone else if you don't!"

"They already killed the only person I care about." A near hysterical Nick pulled the rifle free from Clem's grip and took aim. Clementine hit the dirt and found her pistol lying right in front of her.

"Stop it!" ordered Clem in a shaky voice as she grabbed her gun.

"Make me!" retorted Nick.

"I'll shoot you!" asserted Clementine as she took aim at Nick. "I swear I will!"

"Go right ahead." Clementine couldn't tell if Nick didn't believe her or he actually wanted to die. She watched in despair as he took aim at George and Christa. Clementine put her finger on the trigger, but she couldn't force herself to pull it. Instead she looked out as everyone was being corralled towards the truck.

"Don't shoot!" yelled Clementine at the top of her lungs as she ran out from cover and right towards the lodge. "Don't shoot! We give up! Just don't shoot!" Clem watched as everyone froze as Clementine approached. "Don't shoot!" repeated Clem as she tossed her gun towards the lodge.

"I heard a rifle before!" yelled Byron. "Where is it?"

"Where's Nick?" bellowed George as he jabbed his gun's barrel into the side of Christa's head.

"He's just up there!" answered Clementine.

"This is a trap, it's gotta be!" yelled the man holding Carlos. Clementine watched as everyone took their guns off their hostages and aimed at her instead. Clementine stood there, paralyzed by fear as she saw everyone prepared to kill her.

"She's just a distraction." George cocked his gun.

"No!" yelled Clementine. "Please don't! Just—"

"Don't shoot!" Clementine turned to see Nick heading in her direction, holding his rifle over his head. "Don't shoot," repeated Nick as he tossed the gun aside. "I give up." Nick dropped to his knees right beside Clementine, his hands on his head.

"Consuelo," called George. "Tie these fuckers up." Clementine watched as a familiar woman approached. She had a small shotgun and a bloody rag on her right hand where her thumb should be. Looking up at her face, Clementine saw the vicious anger bubbling over in the woman's eyes, just before seeing the butt of that shotgun in her face.


	26. Helpless

Clementine opened her eyes and found herself surrounded by darkness, unable to move. She wasn't sure what happened, but listening closely Clem could hear an engine running and the ground seemed to be shaking under her, leading the girl to believe she was in the back of the truck she saw earlier.

Sitting up, Clementine discovered her hands were tightly bound behind her back. Her wrists ached from the ties, her stomach was incredibly sore from the kick, and her whole head hurt, especially her nose, which she had trouble breathing through. Trying to stand up, a major bump shook the truck, sending Clem painfully face first into the hard floor. Clementine sobbed to herself, trying to endure the pain.

"Clementine?" called a familiar voice.

"Christa?"

"Clementine!"

"Christa!" Clem looked around in desperation, but the entire area was pitch black. "Where are you?"

"Just follow my voice." Clementine started moving towards Christa's voice on her knees. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," admitted a terrified Clementine as she tried to locate Christa in the darkness. "I think so."

"Just come to me sweetie." Clem could hear Christa dead ahead. She kept moving along on her knees until one of them banged into something. Clem fell forward, but only slightly, her head landing on something fairly soft.

"Clem, is that you?"

"Yeah. It's me," confirmed Clem, relieved to hear Christa so close, even if she couldn't see her.

"Try to get behind me sweetie." Clem tried inching around where she thought Christa was, feeling along with her knees as she moved. "See if you can reach my hands with yours." Clem started feeling around with her fingertips, touching what she was fairly sure was Christa's thigh.

"You can't untie those," spoke a despondent Carlos from the other side of the truck. "They're plastic zip ties. You have to cut them off."

"I'm not trying to get them off," answered a desperate Christa.

"Then what am I doing?" Clementine suddenly felt Christa's hands, which quickly grasped her own.

"I just want you to know I'm right here sweetie." Clementine breathed a little easier upon feeling the warmth from Christa's touch, and even felt a small bit of comfort from Christa wrapping her fingers around the girl's small hands. Clementine responded in kind by grasping Christa's hands as firmly as she could.

"I'm right here Clem," assured Christa as calmly as she could.

"I'm glad you are," confessed Clementine.


	27. In Harm's Way

Clementine listened closely as the truck slowed to a stop. She could hear a couple of distant voices from outside and some sort of loud metal creaking. The truck started moving forward only to stop again suddenly. More voices sounded from outside, as well as footsteps, leading Clem to believe the vehicle was being surrounded. A bright light shined through the cracks in the truck door, giving Clem her first glimpse of the surrounding area.

It was still dark, but she could see a pair of people right across from her, which may have been Sarah and Carlos. There were also stacks of supplies piled up all around the vehicle, as well as a couple of figures in the very back. Looking at one of the boxes illuminated by the sliver of light, Clem recognized a familiar looking tin labeled 'powdered milk'.

Clem tightened her grip on Christa's hands as she heard a loud rattling noise from the door. There was a final loud clank before the door rolled up, flooding the area with light. Clementine found herself blinded at first, but as her eyes adjusted she could see a pair of floodlights aimed at the truck, and a row of people with guns standing just outside.

"All right. The woman and the girl first." Clementine tried to see who was speaking, but the lights made it hard to make out their faces.

"You two deaf? Get over here!" called an angry woman.

"Just do what they say Clem," cautioned Christa as calmly as she could. Clementine struggled to stand without the use of her hands, then slowly approached the edge of the truck. No sooner had she reached the door than she found a set of powerful hands grabbing her from under her armpits. After being set on the ground, the small girl looked over to find a pair of men hoisting Christa off the truck in a similar manner. Clem turned to Christa and was relieved to see she looked unharmed, but upon making eye contact with the woman Christa suddenly appeared shocked.

"Dear God!" exclaimed Christa to Clem.

"What?"

"Move forward," interrupted a fairly athletic looking man in a red shirt. "Both of you." Clem nervously took a few steps forward then stopped to see the same vicious woman from earlier, Consuelo, standing in front of her. Clem was surprised to watch the woman's hands go right for her armpits. Consuelo's bandaged wound smeared flecks of blood on Clem's clothes as she moved down the girl's sides.

Clementine felt her skin crawl as Consuelo's hands slid down her waist and past her thighs, forcefully squeezing the girl to the point of being painful as they moved towards her ankles. Clem felt a chill shoot up her spine as Consuelo briefly grabbed her between her legs before moving behind the girl and reaching into her pant's back pockets.

"Open your mouth!" Clem was too scared to ask why and simply did as she was told. Consuelo grabbed a flashlight and shined it right in Clem's face. She felt the woman's fingers yanking at her jaw briefly before releasing her. Consuelo then pulled off Clem's hat, quickly checked inside of it, then tossed it onto the pavement.

"Wait, my hat—ah!" Consuelo slapped Clem with such force it knocked the small girl face first into the pavement. Fearing she'd be beaten further, Clem bit her lip in a desperate attempt to not cry out from the sting of the slap or the painful throbbing from hitting her head on the hard ground.

"What the hell are you doing!" Clem heard Christa yell out.

"Tom, you want to shut that mouthy bitch up?" Clem felt someone grab her by the wrists and drag her across the pavement.

"You're the one riling her up," commented a man, presumably Tom.

"I'm keeping people in line, you limp dick faggot!" Clem felt herself being tossed into the side of a metal wall.

"Why don't you just sit down before I come over and shove my foot up your ass?" Clem looked up to see Christa being pushed towards the same wall she was lying by. "Better yet, why not help the others clean up those lurkers that followed the truck in?"

"Sure, have the cripple do everything," grumbled Consuelo. "Lazy nigger."

"Are you okay?" whispered Christa.

"No," whimpered Clementine as she stood up.

"Few more, coming in." Looking over, Clem saw Consuelo join three other people gathered by a massive open gate. They were attacking a small pack of walkers as they stumbled in. Two of them were aiming at the legs with machetes, causing the walkers to fall onto their sides, while Consuelo and the other person stabbed them in the head with a long stick with a sharp point at the end. Clem found it odd they moved so casually in this task, easily downing the walkers with little effort.

"That's the last of them for now," called a man. "Close it up, we'll get any stragglers after sunrise." Clem watched as two solid steel walls were rolled into place from opposite directions to close the gap. The walls had logos on them that were partially cut off at the edges, as if they had been built from something else. The two halves of the gate collided to make a loud metal clang that startled Clementine.

The men then moved to some large metal girders attached to the fence by brackets welded right onto the metal. They each worked to slide the girders across the gate into another set of brackets on the other half, barricading it. The men slid a total of four girders across the gate, then moved away from it.

"Carlos and your daughter," called the man in red, which Clem guessed was Tom. "You're next. Outside." Clem watched as Carlos and Sarah were lifted out of the truck. "Move forward." Sarah yelped as Tom started moving his hands down her side.

"Just stay still sweetheart," said Carlos in a shaken voice as a different man searched him. "It'll be over soon."

"What's this?" Tom pulled a photo from Sarah's jacket, then tossed it aside. "Open your mouths." Clem watched as the pair had flashlights shined in their faces. "Both of you over there with them." Carlos and Sarah shuffled to the where Christa and Clem were standing. Looking at a trembling Sarah, Clem found herself sickened by the sight of blood trailing all the way down the older girl's face and pooling onto her shoulder. Clem watched as Sarah turned towards her and gasped.

"What?" asked a frightened Clem.

"Nick and the new guy, now." Clem watched as Nick and Walter emerged from the truck and went through the same motions of being frisked and searched. "All right, over there with—"

"Hold up." Clementine trembled in fear as she saw George come around the side of the truck. "We're two men short because of this piece of shit." Nick cowered before George as he drew closer.

"Two?" asked Tom. "We lost Greg, but—"

"We lost Pete too. All because he wouldn't give himself up sooner." George glared at Nick. "So seeing as we've got a lot to unload, why not go ahead and get a jump on him doing their share of the work?"

"A'ight, soon as the sun comes up we'll—"

"Right now," insisted George.

"We're burning batteries as it is. He can—"

"I said right now!" George stared at Tom, who seemed irritated by this order.

"Whatever," answered Tom as he reached for his radio. "Hector, you up?"

"Since George said you were bringing people back," answered the radio. "What's up?"

"Get a few lights in the warehouse going, we've got a truck to offload."

"Now? It'll be sunrise in—"

"Yes now." Tom put his radio down and turned to Walter. "Stand over there with the others. Nick, back in the truck." Nick reluctantly turned back towards the vehicle while Walter slowly shuffled towards the rest of the group. Tom helped Nick inside the back and then shut the loading door.

"I'll park the truck and put him to work," said George. "You can sort through the others." Turning back to the truck, Clem was shocked to see most of George's left ear was gone and the entire side of his head was covered in blood.

"Wait, where's Matthew?" asked a panicked Walter as the truck's engine hummed to life. "What happened? What did you do to him!" yelled Walter as someone pulled open a second gate that led further inside.

"Hey!" Tom aimed a gun at Walter. "Settle down! I won't ask you again."

"There was another man. What happened to him?" repeated Walter in a quieter but no less panicked voice as the truck pulled away.

"Pete's dead."

"Not him, another man," explained Walter.

"I didn't see anyone else," shrugged Tom.

"At the lodge, that man, George, said something about another person. Where—"

"I ain't here to answer your damn questions! So shut up and sit down already." Walter looked at the gun being aimed at him and inched back towards the rest of the group. "A'ight guys, kill the big lights." The floodlights went out and numerous guards turned on flashlights.

"Since we have our goddamn doctor back, any chance I can get some fucking help tonight?" griped Consuelo as she approached Tom. "Hang on." Tom reached for his radio. "Hector, can you unlock our hospital? We got wounded, as well as a doctor again."

"Yeah, I'll be right there," answered Hector.

"A'ight. I'll take Carlos to get Consuelo's hand looked at. Maude, put his daughter in the pen. Byron, take the new people and their things to Bill for their meet and greet. Rest of you close the inner gate, barricade it, block it, then bounce." A short older woman in black grabbed Sarah by the wrists.

"Wait, no! Daddy!" cried Sarah as she was pulled away from her father.

"I'll be back soon sweetheart," promised Carlos in a desperate voice as he was pulled in another direction by Tom. "Just be good. I'll be right back."

"You three, with me." Clem looked at what she assumed was Byron. He was a young man, younger than Nick even, with short blonde hair, a flashlight pinned to his vest, a pistol in one hand and Clem's backpack in the other. "Start walking." Byron gestured with his gun and Clem, Christa and Walter all moved further into the compound.

As they walked, Clem could hear the gates closing behind her, another loud metal clang giving the terrified girl a sick feeling in her already sore stomach. The clang was followed by a metal scraping sound as they barricaded the gate. And the scraping was followed by the sound of another truck starting. Looking over her shoulder, Clem watched as someone parked a different truck right beside the gate, blocking her view of what may have been the only way out of this place.

"What do you people want from us?" asked Christa.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Walter.

"Save your questions for Bill," spoke an indifferent Byron. "I just work here." Clem could see a large warehouse in the distance looming over a much smaller office building just ahead. Nearing the office building, Clem could read a sign that said 'Shaffer's Shipping' next to the front door. As they reached the building, a curly haired man looking only to be a few years older than Byron came out the door.

"New people for the meet and greet," reported Byron to the man.

"Right, of course." The other man seemed tired. He briefly looked at Clementine, and seemed bothered by what he saw, but then left without another word.

Byron pulled open the front door, allowing the trio to enter. The interior was lit with a pair of small electric lanterns, revealing a fairly ordinary reception area.

"Take the hall on the left all the way to the end." Clem felt her heart pounding as they walked down the dark hallway. "Stop." Byron moved to the last door in the hall and knocked twice. As Byron took a step back, his flashlight illuminated the door, revealing a nameplate that read 'William Carver - Manager'.

"Come on in."


	28. Meet the New Boss

"Howdy y'all. I'm William Carver. But you can call me Bill," introduced a short middle-aged dark-haired man with a thick mustache and a fur lined jacket . "Byron, why don't you grab another chair so our guests can sit down?" The man's tone was inviting but his coarse voice and odd grin made Clementine feel uneasy.

The office's decor was strange as well. Bill sat in a lavish looking leather chair while a variety of guns adorned much of the walls. A kerosene lamp hung from the ceiling, a pair of cast iron lion statues bookended the desk, and behind Bill was a push board with over a dozen radios hanging from it.

"Here." Byron placed a folding chair between the two seats in front of the desk, then clicked off his flashlight. "Sit."

"Byron, why don't you go head and cut off their ties? Make things a little more comfortable?"

"You sure about that?"

"They look harmless enough."

"Actually, Consuelo says the girl shot her thumb off," said Byron.

"Really now?" Bill turned towards Christa. "Is that so? You shoot off my girl's thumb?"

"Not her," corrected Byron. "The younger girl."

"The little one?" asked Bill as he pointed at Clem. "She shot off Connie's thumb?" Clem found it odd Bill didn't sound mad but amused by this revelation. "Is that true?"

"When she grabbed my gun, she put her thumb over the end of it," informed Clem. "So—"

"Well, she won't be doing that again, right Byron?" asked Bill with a smile.

"If she did she wouldn't have any thumbs left to do it a third time," shrugged a weary Byron.

"Good one." Bill chuckled while Byron merely stood there with a bored look on his face. "Still, I doubt the girl here is going to cause any trouble. Go head and cut 'em loose."

"Hold still." Clem felt Byron grab her hands. She heard a snipping noise and suddenly felt the restraints fall off. As Byron released Christa and Walter, Clem rubbed her wrists. There were thick red lines running across them where the ties had been cutting into her skin.

"Now why don't you sit down so we can all get acquainted?" Clem sat down between Christa and Walter. Looking at Bill's desk, Clem noticed more oddities. She could see an antique globe, a small American flag statuette, several hundred dollar bills scattered about, what looked like an old calendar with the words 'Quote-a-Day' written on it, a rather ornate looking bottle of whiskey and a pair of shot glasses. "Can't interest any of you in a drink, can I?"

"I don't want a drink," answered a crestfallen Walter.

"And I can't," informed Christa.

"What about you little lady?" Bill asked Clem as he poured a shot. "You feeling thirsty?"

Clem looked at the glass. "Um… no thanks," she answered.

"Byron?" Byron shook his head. "Well then, more for me then." Bill downed the shot of whiskey. "So, y'all got names I presume?"

"I'm… Walter DeWitt."

"Christa, and she's Clementine."

"Nice to meet you," smiled Bill. "Byron, what did our newest guests bring with them?"

"The woman didn't have anything on her when we found her. The man only had a wallet, which had some photos in it." Byron placed Walter's wallet on the desk, which Bill examined. "The girl threw out a Glock seventeen when she surrendered. It had ten bullets left in it." Byron placed Clem's gun and its magazine on the desk. "She also had a backpack, which contained two drawings, a radio with no batteries, a note, and two paperback books." Byron placed the backpack on the desk.

"Well now, you an artist?" asked Bill as he pulled out the drawings. "This your daddy?" Bill held up Clem's drawing of Lee digging a grave.

"He's dead," answered a saddened Clementine.

"Well, that's a shame."

"Oh, almost forgot." Byron removed something from his vest. "The girl also had this on." Clementine was surprised to see Byron place her hat on the desk.

"Now that thing looks like it's seen better days. Then again, so does its owner." Christa scowled as Bill pulled out another piece of paper from Clem's backpack. "Sincerely, Sarah. Sounds like you met Carlos's elusive daughter."

"What did you do to her?" asked a concerned Clementine.

"She's just in the pen, probably sleeping by now. You'll see her again once we're done here." Bill set the note down. "I'm guessing you two got some questions as well."

"Why did your people attack me?" asked a shaken Walter.

"I'm guessing that was your building we found our former residents in?" asked Bill.

"In a sense," answered Walter. "It's been my home since shortly after this started."

"Well you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, really all three of you were," explained an apologetic Bill. "Now you may not have realized it, but those people you were with are some very dangerous individuals."

"I figured that out when one of them killed the father of my child," recounted Christa in a bitter tone. "And your doctor left Clementine to bleed to death in the cold."

"Then you can see why it was so important for us to find them then," reasoned Bill. "You're lucky we came along when we did."

"Lucky?" asked an indignant Christa. "The rest of your people were shooting at us!"

"Unlike the supposed dangerous ones," added Walter. "Who were civil to me."

"I'm sure they were. It would make it easier for them to attack you, like it sounds like they did to this poor woman and her girl." Bill gestured to Christa and Clem. "As for the shooting, my crew uses a little shock and awe when they're working. Scare tactics to keep people from shooting back. If they had wanted to kill you, they had done it, but they didn't. That's not how we operate."

"Is beating little girls part of how you operate?" snapped Christa.

"Well hold on now, we talking about the same little girl who maimed one of mine?" asked Bill.

"She was trying to protect herself," retorted Christa. "Your woman did this to her after Clem had given herself up."

"That's real unfortunate," consoled Bill. "Our crew tends to be a rough sort. Can't be helped really. The things they've seen would push anyone a bit over the edge, and once that happens it's hard to say what they'll do. Bet your girl didn't think she'd ever dismember someone."

"I wasn't trying to," spoke Clem. "It's—"

"Now now, take it easy," said Bill in a calm voice. "We got a simple rule around here that helps keep things civil. What happens out there, stays out there."

"Does that include robbing me?" asked Walter.

"Well like I said, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Since we had to bring you along, we went ahead and brought along what you had with you, which from what I was told, was quite a bit. Sounds like you hoarded yourself a pretty nice stash."

"I wasn't hoarding anything," said Walter. "I offered food to anyone who asked for it."

"That's real good of you," complimented Bill. "I know how you feel. I got a lot of hungry people myself. And we get more all the time. You'll be happy to know that what you had is going to do a lot of people a lot of good."

"But why did you bring us here?" asked Christa. "What do you want from us?"

"It's not about what I want, it's just a matter of concern. You see, I got a lot of people here I'm responsible for, and if you hadn't noticed, there are a lot of dangerous sorts out there these days."

"So you're policing the apocalypse?" scoffed a sarcastic Christa.

"In a sense," answered Bill. "When people get desperate, they'll do some desperate things, so my people make sure it doesn't come to that."

"In my experience, most people are just looking for some help in these trying times," retorted Walter. "And are grateful to find it."

"I'm glad to hear that, but my people haven't been so fortunate," said Bill in a somber tone. "We've had attacks on our home, crews being robbed or worse while out salvaging, not to mention the dead roaming about." Bill turned to Christa and Clem.

"I get the feeling you two know what I'm talking about. I bet you've seen some things between the pair of ya. You know you got to be real careful around people these days. Real careful. That's why my crew always brings back anyone they find for me to meet. So I can be sure they're not the dangerous type who'd hurt anyone."

"And why are you the person who gets to decide who's dangerous and who's not?" asked Walter.

"Well, someone has to make decisions like that, and no one else seemed willing, so here I am," smirked Bill.

"And what happens if you don't think we're dangerous?" asked Christa. "You just let us go?"

"If that's what you want," shrugged Bill. "But I wouldn't be so hasty. The worst part's over, and once you get settled I think you'll find we got a lot to offer honest hard working people, not least of which is safety. I have a hard time seeing myself surviving out in the wilds, let alone a woman with a girl and a baby." Christa and Clem exchanged concerned glances.

"You know, one of my advisors has been talking to me a lot lately about what to do when some of our residents decide to have children of their own. Maybe you and him could have a talk about what you would need if you decide to stay here," suggested Bill.

"Well I for one am not staying," announced Walter. "Someone I love is still out there, and I have to try and find him."

"I'm guessing he's the one in the photos?" surmised Bill.

"Yes. His name is Matthew, and I think I heard one of your people mention him back when they attacked us."

"Well then, I'll ask my people if they saw him. In the meantime, you should make yourselves at home."

"I already have a home," insisted Walter.

"Well consider yourself a guest then. You spend a little time here so we can get a feel for you three and we'll talk again, see what you want to do then. Byron." A half-asleep Byron looked up at Bill.

"Now that we got our resident doctor back, why don't you take the girl over to him to get herself cleaned up?"

"Right," nodded Byron as he seemed to force himself to be fully awake. "Okay—"

"Can I have my stuff back?" asked Clementine as she eyed her backpack.

"Now like I said, I gotta be sure you people don't mean no harm, and even if you don't, we might need some of your things to help my own people," explained Bill. "Like that food your friend here brought us."

"Can I just have my hat back?" pleaded Clementine as she looked at the filthy baseball cap sitting right in front of her. "It can't hurt anyone, and nobody would need it."

"It means something to you, doesn't it?"

"Yes. My dad gave it to me."

"Well, Byron, we're not exactly hurting for hats right now, are we?" Byron shrugged. "Why don't you go head and take it? And I'm thinking you would probably want your wallet back as well." Bill slid Walter's wallet back to him while Clem eagerly took her hat and put it on her head. "What do you say little lady?"

"Um… thank you?"

"You're welcome."

"How generous for you to let us keep some of our possessions," said Walter in a biting tone.

"What can I say, I'm a generous guy," smiled Bill. "Speaking of which, Byron, go take the girl here over to Carlos for a checkup and then take them all to the pen for some shut eye."

"The pen?" asked Christa.

"Little holding area until we find you a more permanent place here," explained Bill. "Don't fret, it's really more of a formality. I'm sure once you get your bearings we'll find something for you good people. Just ask Byron here. He only spent a couple of days in there."

"Come on you three." Byron gestured to everyone to stand up.

"Be sure to take the scenic route once you're done with Carlos," Bill told Byron.

"Can do." Byron switched on his flashlight and gestured to the door.

"Don't be a stranger now," said Bill as the trio left the office.

"Hang a right and keep going," instructed Byron as they stepped back outside. Examining her surroundings, Clementine couldn't help but look at the massive fence that bordered the area. It seemed to be made from steel shipping containers lined up against the perimeter of the yard, with large strips of metal bolting them together at the seams and a chain-link fence lined with razor wire running on top of the containers. Looking away from the fence, Clem noticed dozens of more containers spaced out across the yard for as far as she could see.

"Over there." Byron gestured to a red container with a white cross crudely painted on the side. Leaning against it was Tom, who was smoking a cigarette. "Carlos inside?"

"Yeah, but so's Consuelo. So—"

"Cocksucking motherfucker," Consuelo swore to herself as she burst out of the container, examining her bandaged hand. "Goddamn little—" Consuelo spotted Clementine and immediately rushed to the girl. "You fucking little bitch!" Both Tom and Byron stepped in front of Consuelo while Christa stepped in front of Clementine.

"Give it a rest," said Byron as he held Consuelo back. "You should've known better than to put your fingers over the barrel of a gun."

"Fuck you Byron! You little bleach blonde bitch!"

"Step off!" Tom shoved Consuelo onto the pavement. "Do everyone a favor and fuck off already."

"Eat me you Uncle Tom piece of shit!" yelled Consuelo as she stood up. "Fucking cum bucket shoots off my thumb and you're pushing me around?"

"Hard to hate on someone for doing what we've all thought about at some point," scoffed Tom.

"Oh fuck you both!" screamed Consuelo as she walked past the men. "You're dead you worthless cunt!" barked Consuelo right to Clem's face as she passed the girl by. "You hear me? Fucking dead!" Clem watched as Consuelo wandered across the lot, swearing to herself.

"Why couldn't she have taken one in the head?" Tom asked Byron.

"Or the throat," suggested Byron. "Spare us having to listen to her."

"Knowing her, she'd find whole new ways just to piss us off," remarked Tom.

"Anyways, Bill wanted Carlos to clean up the girl before I lock the new people up."

"A'ight. Go on." Clem and Christa moved towards the container but Tom immediately grabbed Christa's shoulder. "Hey, just the girl."

"Why?" asked Christa.

"Dems da rules. One at a time only," answered Tom.

"But I… I'm her mother," lied Christa. "Look at her. She needs her mom right now."

"Yeah. Yeah I do," said Clem, playing along.

Tom looked to Byron, who just shrugged. "Fine, whatever." Tom released Christa and the pair walked into the cramped container. There was a long wooden table hosting a wide variety of medical tools with Carlos seated in front of them.

"What are you doing here?" asked Carlos, sounding genuinely confused.

"Your boss wants you to fix what your friends did to Clementine."


	29. Mending Fences

"None of the people here are my friends," stated Carlos in a defiant tone. "But, just sit there, and I'll treat you." Clementine took a seat in front of a bunch of various sharp tools laid out on a silver tray.

"Oh really? Now you'll help her?" asked Christa. "Is that why you left this place? They made you occasionally help someone?" Clementine leaned in closer to the silver tray, noticing it was clean enough to see her reflection, even in the low light.

"I left here because I didn't want what's happened to her to happen to Sarah," explained Carlos as he moved to a pair of lockers sitting at the other end of the container. "I can't believe George struck her." Clementine pushed the tools aside and picked up the tray, angling it so she could see her face in it.

"How is it you can be so scared for your kid, and so completely unconcerned with another?" asked Christa. "Does it not bother you at all what these people did to Clementine? What you did to her?"

Finally seeing her own reflection clearly, Clem was horrified. Blood was dripping down her face from her severely swollen nose. There was a huge red mark between her eyes where the gun had struck her. She could see the outline of Consuelo's hand where she had been slapped, and there was a cut on her forehead from where she had hit the pavement.

"Sarah's such a sensitive girl that these kinds of horrors would devastate her. If hurt too deeply she… she'd never recover," explained Carlos. "She's not like your girl. She couldn't handle—" The sound of the metal tray and its tools hitting the table startled Carlos and Christa alike. Looking at Clementine, they saw the young girl shaking in her seat.

"What… what are they going to do to us?" stuttered a sniveling Clementine. Christa leaned in close and put her arm around the terrified young girl.

"Well?" Christa looked to Carlos, angry and worried all at once. "What are they going to do to us?"

"They'll probably put you to work," answered Carlos.

"Doing what?" asked Christa.

"Whatever they need done."

"She's only nine, and hurt, and I'm pregnant."

"That means nothing to Carver. Nothing," stated Carlos in a certain tone. "Unless you have something unique to offer him, you're just another laborer doing his bidding. Don't believe that man's lies."

"And I should believe you?" asked Christa. "Considering what you've done, how do I know—"

"They were trying to kill me," recounted a shocked Clementine.

"What?" asked Christa.

"At the lodge. That woman, Consuelo, she was trying to shoot me because I shot off her thumb," explained a trembling Clementine. "And that man chased me down, and beat me up, and stepped on my neck, and I couldn't breathe…" Christa moved in closer and noticed an unsightly bruise across Clem's neck.

"Oh my God," whispered a horrified Christa.

"I don't expect you to trust me. But listen to me when I tell you, don't believe anything William Carver says."

Christa rubbed her hand across Clem's shoulders, trying to calm her. "Okay," answered Christa in a quiet voice.

"You should lean your head back," Carlos said to Clem.

"So what should we expect from these people?" asked Christa as Carlos gently wiped away the blood under Clem's nose. "Are they going to do something like this to her again? Or me?"

"If you do what they tell you, they shouldn't." Carlos placed a few small pieces of cotton in Clem's nostrils to stop the bleeding.

"Shouldn't?" repeated Christa.

"Carver has no concern for anyone he considers expendable, which is nearly all of us." Carlos placed a small plastic piece over Clem's nose and taped it to her cheeks. "So if one of his crew acts out, don't expect any help from him. But if you do what they say, they have to feed you."

"And what do we have to do?" asked Christa.

"You're all new, so it'll probably be simple tasks." Clem flinched as Carlos cleaned the cut on her head.

"And when we're not new anymore?" asked Christa.

"That's up to Carver." Carlos placed a bandage over Clem's cut. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My stomach," answered Clem. "It's sore from where that man kicked me."

"Let me see. Lift up your shirt."

Clem looked to Christa. "It's okay Clem." Clem lifted up the front of her shirt, revealing another bruise above her belly. "Jesus," Christa said to herself.

"Wait." Carlos removed a stethoscope from the table and put it on. He placed the end of it against Clem's chest. "Breathe in and out slowly." Clem did as she was told. As she breathed she could feel Carlos moving the stethoscope to different parts of her body. "Is it hurting to breathe at all?"

"No," answered Clem.

"Good. They probably didn't break any of your ribs then." Carlos set the stethoscope down. "Any other pain?"

"My arm, a little." Carlos unwrapped the bandage on Clem's arm.

"You've ripped one of your stitches," informed Carlos.

"I did?" asked Clem. "Does that mean I have to get another one?"

"Yes." Clem sighed in response to Carlos.

"It's just one sweetie. It won't take long." Christa grasped Clem's hand while she watched Carlos thread a small curved needle that looked a little like a fishing hook.

"Ready?" asked Carlos as he laid Clem's wounded arm flat out on the table.

"I guess." Clem closed her eyes and clenched her hand into a fist. "Ow—shit!" cried Clem as the needle pierced her skin. She clenched her teeth as she felt the thread tugging at her injury.

"Okay, that'll do it." Clem looked over in surprise to see Carlos had already tied off the stitch. "We should probably change this bandage too. Give me a minute, I'll see if I can find a clean one." As Carlos moved back to the lockers, Clementine looked up at a worried Christa hovering over her.

"I… I'm sorry I sweared," Clem said to Christa.

"It's fine Clem," assured Christa.

"Um, Christa, I wanted to ask you something."

"What's that Clem?"

"What's a cunt?" Christa seemed surprised to hear Clem say that.

"It's another swear word," answered Christa.

"Oh, sorry."

"You didn't know."

"I've never heard that one before."

"It's a really horrible thing to call a girl," answered a bitter Christa.

"And what did she mean by saying, come bucket?"

"It's another swear, and another horrible thing to call someone."

"Really? Come is a swear?"

"The way she was saying it, yeah."

"And the word she called that Tom guy earlier, by the truck? Is that a swear?"

"Yes, that was a really hateful thing for her to say."

"I didn't know there were so many swears," spoke a surprised Clem.

"That's because there's a lot of horrible words adults should never use either," explained Christa. "If that woman says something you don't understand, just assume it's another swear, and the kind that any half-decent person would never use."

"I will." Carlos sat down next to Clem with a new bandage.

"Any other pain?" Clem flinched as Carlos started cleaning the wound on her arm.

"Um… my tooth is still loose."

"Is it bothering you?" asked Carlos as he started wrapping Clem's arm.

"Not really."

"Good, because I meant it when I said I'm not a dentist. There's not much I can do about your teeth." Carlos finished wrapping Clem's new bandage. "I… I guess that's everything." Clem stood up and headed for the door with Christa.

"Wait," called Carlos. "I don't know when they're going to let me leave, so, if you could, please, watch Sarah until I get back."

"You want me to look after your daughter?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"Christa," scolded Clem.

"Don't punish her for what I've done," begged a desperate Carlos. "She never hurt anyone. Please, she must be so scared right now. Just… just tell her I'll be with her as soon as I can." Clem looked on in surprise as Carlos seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Okay," assured a sympathetic Christa. "We'll watch out for her."

"Thank you." Carlos rested his head in his hands, appearing utterly broken by his predicament.

"You do know those things will kill you?" Clem heard Byron say as they stepped outside.

"Not before something else does." Tom took the cigarette out of his mouth and turned to Clem and Christa. "Whoa. Hold up. Gotta give you two your pat downs."

"What, again?" asked an annoyed Christa.

"Yeah again. You just come out the box we keep a bunch of sharp shit and drugs in," explained Tom. "Arms out." Christa sighed as she and Clem held out their arms. Clementine felt uncomfortable as Byron's hands ran down her sides, but his grip was much looser than Consuelo's and he did it much faster. Byron then pulled Clem's hat off and looked inside.

"She's good." Byron handed Clem her hat back. "New guy, come on." Clem looked over to see Walter sitting against the cargo container, a depressed look on his face. "Hey!"

"Walter." Christa's call seemed to reach the downtrodden man as he slowly stood up.

"Come on. You can rest when we get to the pen."

"Tom." Clem turned around to see George approaching. "Carlos still in there?"

"Um, yeah," answered Tom. "Guess you want me to hang back here until he patches you up?"

"No," answered George. "You go on to bed. I'll take care of Carlos." George marched right past Tom and into the cargo container.

"Yeah, sure," Tom said to himself.

"Come on. Head for the main building," urged Byron. "I want to get some sleep." The group marched back towards the large warehouse they saw upon entering the yard. Approaching it they saw light shining from one of the loading doors. Moving past the truck parked out front, Clem looked on in awe at the pallets upon pallets of canned and dried goods.

"Holy shit," Christa said to herself as she looked around the warehouse. Past the wide variety of foods, Clem also saw stacks of batteries, barrels full of water, barrels full of other substances, tools piled upon each other, stacks of clothes, car parts, gas containers, and boxes stacked upon boxes that Clem could only guess the contents of. Moving across the warehouse, Clem noticed an area ahead that was lit more brightly than the others.

She saw a small pop-up tent past a stack of tires. It had a pair of small electric lanterns hanging from it and a bed set next to a table covered in papers. Getting closer Clem could see a man lying on the bed and Nick standing over him.

"I got everything," said Nick in a tired voice. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"George said you're to stay here until he gets back." The person lying on the bed was a slim shorter man with thick glasses, an orange baseball hat and a cigarette in his mouth. "So that means you stay put until he gets back."

"Why?" asked a shaken Nick. "Hector, what's he going to do?"

"That's for him to decide," answered Hector without looking up.

"Hey." Clem turned to see Byron behind her. "Keep moving." Clem started walking forward again, not even realizing she had stopped. Reaching the other end of the warehouse, Clem saw the small older woman from earlier standing guard in front of a loading door.

"Hey Maude," greeted Byron.

"It's about time," grumbled Maude. "What took you so long?"

"Bill wanted me to take them to Carlos first." Byron stopped moving and placed his hand on his holster. "All right you three, move over into the corner." Clem watched as Maude started unlocking a pair of padlocks at the bottom of the door. She then moved to a trio of huge latches on one side of the door that were also locked. Looking closely, Clem could see that these probably weren't originally part of the door. Maude unlocked yet another three locks on the other side and finally rolled the door up.

"All right, everyone inside." The group followed the order and walked past the door. No sooner had they stepped outside than they heard the door slammed shut behind them.


	30. The Pen

Looking around, Clem realized they were back outside in an area caged in with tall chain link fences that were reinforced by some kind of wire mesh material. On the other end of the area was a small gate built into the fence, and through the fence Clem could see some man sitting outside in a chair with a lantern hanging above him.

Being outside, it was fairly cold, and Clementine found herself rubbing her arms to keep warm. Looking around for anything to stave off the cool night air, Clementine saw two rows of very small beds laid out in the middle of the area, a few of which were occupied. Clem's gaze immediately went to a shaking Sarah sitting on one of the beds with her knees pulled up to her chest and a teenage boy she didn't recognize sitting next to her.

"You know, you could really use a friend in here." The boy looked slightly older than Sarah and had long greasy dark hair and a couple of earrings on the same ear. "That could be me." Clem watched as this boy put his arm on Sarah's shoulder. Sarah suddenly seemed to notice Clem and the others and sprung off the bed.

"Wuh… wuh… where's… where's my dad?" she managed to stutter.

"He's okay," assured Christa in a calming voice. "He's just helping people who were hurt. Like Clementine." Looking closely, Clem was surprised to see that Sarah was still bleeding. The small bit of blood on her shoulder had now trailed all the way down her jacket. "He said he'll be with you as soon as he can. Probably when he's done treating people."

"Da… da… daddy," Sarah mumbled to herself as she shuffled over to one of the beds.

Christa turned her attention to the boy. "What did you do to her?" she more accused than asked.

"Nothing. I was just talking. The fuck is her problem?" mumbled the boy as he rubbed his eyes. "So, more new people? Good, maybe me and Matt will finally get a break around here."

"Who are you?" asked Christa. "What is this place?"

"I'm Mick. This is my brother Matt." Mick gestured to a shorter boy asleep in the bed next to him. "And that's Felicity." Mick pointed to a skinny woman in the bed past Matt. "And, I don't really care who you people are."

"Why is she tied to the bed?" Following Christa's question, Clem noticed Felicity's wrists and ankles had been bound to the bed posts by some kind of restraints.

"Oh, she hasn't been feeling well," mumbled Mick.

"What?" asked Christa.

"You know, in case she dies in her sleep and turns into a creep, she can't eat us," explained an uninterested Mick. "All the beds have that. Sorta like seat belts, cept, they stop you from killing other people, after you die." Mick yawned.

"Tell you what, I'll give you the grand tour. There's the ceiling." Looking up Clem was surprised to see there was some kind of overhang attached to the building that the fence was built up to. "And that's the bathroom." Mick gestured to what looked like a crude wooden closet tucked away in the corner. "Welcome to the pen. If you want anything else, figure it out yourself." Mick lay down in his bed.

"This just keeps getting better and better," Christa mumbled to herself as Walter took a seat on one of the beds.

"I… I'm sorry Christa," sobbed Clementine.

"What?" asked Christa.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"For what?"

"You said this would happen."

"I did?"

"That we should have left, so they wouldn't find us."

"What? Clem, this isn't—"

"You said it was a mistake to stay with the others and I didn't listen."

"Oh God," Christa mumbled to herself. "Why did I say that?"

"Because you were right."

"No. Clem—"

"You were."

"Well if I was right, it was for the wrong reasons," insisted Christa.

"What does that matter if you were right?" sobbed Clem.

"It matters because I wasn't thinking about what's best for all of us," explained Christa. "I was angry and tired of being stuck with the same people who killed Omid and hurt you and all I wanted to do was get away from them. I wasn't thinking about how it would affect us, or you, or anything.

"So even if I was right then, it would have just been dumb luck, not because I was looking out for us, and whatever I did next probably would have made things even worse for us. Like… what I tried to do back at the lodge. " Christa found herself tearing up as she put her arm around Clem.

"You were the one who was right Clem. I didn't know what to do for food if we left. I didn't know where to go. And us leaving then would have pissed them off, and they probably would have come after us. None of this is your fault Clem. None of it. You were the one thinking clearly and you've got nothing to apologize for."

Clem looked away in shame. "That's not true," she said. "I never should have said I wished you were dead instead of Omid. I didn't mean it but, I never should have said it."

"It's okay Clem."

"No it isn't," insisted Clem. "It was a horrible thing to say."

"Yeah, well, you probably wouldn't have said it if I hadn't been treating you so horrible lately. Besides, sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if it had been me instead of him," confessed Christa.

"Don't say that. If you had died, Omid would have been even sadder because you and the baby would be gone."

"You know, I'm ashamed to admit I really haven't been thinking about the baby lately. With everything that's happened it just hasn't been on my mind. Now that I am, I realize it could have died just from me being so reckless. It's not even born yet I'm already a horrible mother."

"No you're not." Clem looked at the guilt-ridden Christa, trying to think of what to say to her. "Omid said that me and him didn't have to worry about things getting worse as long as you were around."

"Did he?" Clem nodded. "I'm guessing he also said something else when he said that though?"

"Yeah, but he still meant it," assured Clem. "And, I definitely feel better because you're here." Christa put her arms around Clem, holding the girl close, and Clem squeezed Christa as hard as she could.

"I feel better with you here too Clem." Christa released Clementine. "A lot better." Turning away from Christa, Clem couldn't help noticing Sarah trembling on one of the beds. "Think she could feel better?" asked Christa, clearly aware of the answer.

Clementine and Christa sat down on the bed across from Sarah. She had her knees up to her chest again, but she looked worse than before. Tears were running down her cheeks from her bloodshot eyes while she struggled to breathe, her entire body shaking.

"Jesus," Christa mumbled to herself as she looked at the bloody mark on Sarah's forehead. "What the hell is wrong with these people?" Christa tried to pull back Sarah's hair to get a better look, but Sarah jerked her head away in response. "It's okay. I just want to help." Sarah didn't answer.

"Sarah?" Clem inched closer to the older girl. "Sarah?" Clem moved her hand onto one of Sarah's, carefully wrapping her fingers around it. "Can you hear me?" Sarah suddenly turned to Clementine, as if she just noticed her.

"Cluh… Clementine?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah. Me and Christa want to help you." Sarah didn't say anything, but Clem felt the older girl's hand squeezing her own.

"We need something to make a bandage for that cut," said Christa.

"How bout my shirt?" suggested Clem. "It's too big. Maybe you could tear off a little bit of it."

"Yeah, that'll work." Christa pulled at the bottom of Clem's shirt, stretching it out. She leaned in and used her teeth to rip a small hole in it. Sticking her fingers in the hole, Christa started tearing the bottom section of Clem's shirt off, leaving the girl with a slightly better fitting shirt.

"First, let me clean up some of this blood." Christa tore a piece off from the fabric. "Just hold still." Christa started wiping Sarah's face.

"It'll be okay," assured Clem as she held Sarah's hand.

"All right, Clem, hold her hair back." Clem let go of Sarah's hand and pulled her hair back while Christa wrapped the cloth from the shirt around the older girl's head. Sarah flinched as Christa tightly tied the bandage. "There. That should hopefully stop the bleeding."

"Th… thank you," stuttered Sarah.

"If you need anything else, just ask. Okay?" Christa looked over at Walter, who was hunched over on one of the beds. "Clem, you think you could stay with her for a little while?"

"Sure."

"I'm gonna talk to Walter for a bit. He may have just lost his boyfriend, so, that's something we have in common," commented Christa in a grim tone. "If you need anything, just—"

"I will." Christa looked at Clem for a moment, clearly still worried for her.

"Okay." Christa sat up and moved over to where Walter was sitting, leaving Clem alone with Sarah. Turning back to the older girl, Clem noticed Sarah was staring at her.

"I know. I look really bad," commented a downtrodden Clementine.

"I… I just can't believe someone would do that to a little girl," spoke a horrified Sarah.

"They don't care how old I am," said Clem.

"I care," retorted a shaken Sarah. "It's… it's not right."

"They don't care what's right either." This revelation seemed to further upset Sarah, which just made Clementine feel worse. "Sarah, didn't you used to live here before?"

"Not… not right here. My dad…" Sarah seemed to seize up for a moment after mentioning her father. "…we had our own room, where I stayed."

"All the time?" asked Clem.

"Almost."

"So, you don't really know much about this place?"

"I'm sorry, no," apologized Sarah. "I mean, sometimes I heard things. But I didn't know they did stuff like this. That they hurt little girls and tied people up and killed people. That must be why my dad… it must be why he said we had to leave."

"Yeah, probably," answered Clem, not entirely convinced.

"I… I couldn't do it," sniveled Sarah.

"Do what?"

"I couldn't shoot him. Pete… he told me to shoot and I just couldn't… and now he's… he's dead," whispered a traumatized Sarah. "Because… I couldn't shoot that man."

"It's not your fault Sarah," assured Clem.

"But… I should have shot that man."

"Killing is wrong, no matter what."

"But he's a bad man. If I had shot him, he couldn't hurt anyone anymore."

"Yeah…" conceded Clem

"So, why would shooting him be wrong?"

"It's wrong because…" Clementine pondered Sarah's question, trying to think of an answer. "It's wrong because you shouldn't have to kill people."

"But you do have to," concluded Sarah. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," nodded Clem. "Because even though it's wrong, sometimes you have to do it anyway, because something even worse will happen if you don't. But it's still wrong."

"How… how do you know when you're supposed to do it?"

"I… I don't know," confessed Clem. "I'm not sure if anyone does."

"I don't think I could do it, even if I knew I had to," confessed Sarah. "I'm just not… brave enough, to do something like that."

"It's good that you don't want to kill people."

"But what if I had to?" Clem looked away, trying to compose herself long enough to answer Sarah.

"Try… try to think about what would happen if you don't do it," instructed a flustered Clementine.

"Richard, come back." Clem looked over to the fence and saw the man on the other side pick up his radio.

"Go head George," answered the man in a weary voice.

"You can turn in," instructed George. "I'm not sending anyone else to the pen tonight."

"Got it." Clem watched as the man shut off the lantern hanging over him, leaving the pen in darkness.

"But… but… my dad's not here," murmured Sarah. "Where is he?" Clem watched as the guard left the fence and disappeared into the distance.

"Clem, you okay?" asked Christa as she carefully moved towards the girl.

"I'm fine." Clem looked to Sarah and even in the dark she could tell she was becoming more worried by the moment.

"You people should get some sleep," mumbled Mick without looking up. "Trust me, you'll need it. And more importantly, I need it. So please, shut up."

"I guess we're not doing anything else tonight," reasoned Christa as she sat down on a bed. "Clem?"

"I'll be fine. I just want to talk to Sarah a little more," assured Clem. "I'll go to bed in a second."

"Okay, just get me if you need anything." Clem watched Christa lie down, then turned back to a still trembling Sarah.

"Wuh… what… what am I going to do?" stuttered a terrified Sarah.

"He'll come back," said Clem. "Just, not tonight."

"But what if he doesn't? I'd be all alone," realized a panicking Sarah.

"You wouldn't be alone. I'd still be here. So would Christa, and Walter. You'd be okay."

"But…"

"Sarah, you should just go to sleep. Things will be better in the morning… probably." Clem couldn't look away from the anguished look on Sarah's face. "Sarah, why don't you sleep in my bed?"

"Huh?"

"My parents… they used to let me sleep in their bed when I got scared," explained Clem. "Would it make you feel better if I was right next to you?"

"I… I don't know. Maybe?"

"Just, lie down." Clem put her hand on Sarah's shoulder, nudging her towards the bed until Sarah lay down on her side. Clem then gently pried Sarah's hands off her knees. "It'll be okay Sarah," assured Clem as she tugged on Sarah's ankle. Sarah slowly unfolded her legs, allowing Clem to pull the older girl's shoes off. Clem set the shoes under the bed, then quickly took off her own. Turning back to Sarah, she saw her removing her glasses.

"Here. I'll put them up." Sarah handed Clem her glasses. Clem took off her hat and set the glasses inside, then slipped the hat under the bed next to their shoes. Lying down, Clem found the bed wasn't very comfortable. The pillows were completely flat, and the blanket didn't offer much warmth, but it was better than sleeping on the ground she figured.

"Thank you Clementine," spoke Sarah, sounding calmer but no less anxious. Clem pulled the covers over their bodies and tried to settle into a comfortable position. Even with her back turned, Clem could still feel Sarah's presence next to her. The older girl's weight shifted the bed springs a little, as if they were pulling Clementine towards Sarah. Closing her eyes, Clem did her best not to think about her situation, hoping to forget her troubles just long enough to go to sleep.


	31. The First Day

Clementine opened her eyes. It was morning now. Looking around she could see that Mick boy was already awake. Clem tried to sit up, but couldn't. She looked down and noticed Sarah's arms wrapped around her. Listening closely she could hear Sarah breathing and assumed she was still asleep. Clem carefully shifted one of her arms free of Sarah's grasp. She then gently tried to pry Sarah's hands away, when Sarah suddenly pulled Clementine closer.

Rolling over, Clem found herself face to face with a still mostly asleep Sarah. Trying to wriggle free, Clem discovered Sarah had an unusually strong grip. Looking more closely at Sarah's face, Clem couldn't help noticing that even while sleeping she still looked worried.

"Sarah?" Clem watched as Sarah's eyes slid open slightly. "Um, hi," greeted an awkward Clem. "Could you let me go?" Sarah's eyes popped open when she realized where her arms were.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," apologized an embarrassed Sarah as she hastily released Clem. "I didn't mean to. I—"

"Sarah, it's fine," assured Clem. "I just wanted to sit up. That's all." Clem reached under the bed and retrieved her hat. She handed Sarah her glasses back and put the hat on, then reached down for her shoes next. Clem wrinkled her nose, realizing the cotton was still in it. She pulled the pieces out and tossed them aside, relieved she could literally breathe a little easier.

"She dead?" Clem looked over to see Mick's brother, Matt, hovering over Felicity. He had short dark hair and didn't look much taller than Clementine herself.

"Nah, she's coming around." Mick undid Felicity's restraints, allowing her to sit up. Looking at the woman in the light, Clem was shocked to see the misery hanging off her sickly face, as if she was dying.

"My dad's still not here," realized a troubled Sarah as she scanned the area.

"Neither is Nick," noted Clementine.

"Is he ever coming back?" wondered Sarah out loud.

"It'll be okay. He's probably just… busy." This answer didn't seem to ease Sarah's mind. "You okay?"

"I don't know, maybe," shrugged a nervous Sarah. "I… I kinda need to go to the bathroom though."

"Yeah, me too." Clem looked at the small crude wooden closet built in the corner. Wandering over to it, Clem found an open door and peered inside. In the middle of the area was a stool with a hole cut in it, a toilet seat crudely attached to it and a metal bucket underneath it. There were only three wooden walls, the fourth wall was just a section of the fence with a tear in it that allowed some crude chute to poke through.

"Gross," commented Sarah as she looked over Clem's shoulder.

"Yeah, but it's all you get until lunch," informed Mick as he approached Clem and Sarah. "They don't give us bathroom breaks. Matt found that out the hard way."

"Don't tell them that!" exclaimed Matt.

"Just make sure you empty the bucket through the hole in the wall when you're done." Matt left Clem and Sarah to look on in disgust at their only bathroom. Clem sighed and stepped inside. She closed the door, noting it had no lock, and tried to hurry. The worst part was emptying the bucket. Clem didn't even want to think about where that chute went. Opening the door, Clem found Sarah waiting nervously outside.

"Just try to get it over with real quick," suggested an uncomfortable Clem as she moved towards where Christa was sitting.

"You okay Clem?" asked Christa.

"Not really," admitted Clem. "I don't like this place."

"Yeah, me neither. I remember when we first found the cabin, I thought to myself, I wish we had found somewhere with a better bed," grumbled Christa as she rubbed her back. "Do anything to get back there right now."

"I wish I had my old room back," admitted Clem. "I thought I hated it at the cabin. But other than not having much to eat, it was pretty good."

"Not having much to eat was a big problem," consoled Christa. "Looking back on it, I'm thinking Omid was right, that we should have spent some more time scavenging before we made the move."

"But then we might have found this place," noted Clem in a grim tone.

"Yeah." Christa sighed. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't." Christa watched as Sarah left the bathroom, then groaned to herself as she stood up. Clem noticed Walter sitting in next bed, still grieving.

"I'm sorry about Matthew," said Clem as she approached Walter.

"We don't know what happened. That George person said he slipped by. He could still be out there, maybe trying to find us," rationalized Walter.

"Yeah, maybe," said Clem in a doubtful tone.

"When I said I couldn't imagine how hard this is for you, I apparently meant it. I never even thought Christa wasn't actually your mother."

Clementine was surprised to hear this. "How—"

"She told me last night," answered Walter. "I won't ask you about it, I just wanted to say you have my condolences, for anything that's happened."

"Thanks Walter," said Clem. "I'm sorry you're stuck here because you helped us."

"I have no regrets about helping any of you," assured Walter. "These people are the ones who attacked us unprovoked and they're the ones holding us prisoner now. Not Pete, or anyone else." Walter sighed. "Still, he could have told me. Maybe there was something we could have done."

"I don't think he liked thinking about this place."

Walter looked over at Felicity, who was hacking and coughing. "I just got here and I don't like thinking about it," he said.

Clem saw Christa emerge from the bathroom. "Mick says you better go now, because they won't let you again until lunch," she said.

"You know, I used to be a teacher, and I had colleagues who would tell me I shouldn't let students use the bathroom during class because some of them might use it as an excuse to skip."

"What did you do?"

"I'd always tell them, 'They're not asking to be here, the least we can do is let them use the damn bathroom." Walter stood up and headed for the bathroom himself. Clementine looked over at Felicity, sitting alone on the bed on the furthest end. She tried to approach the woman but felt a tug on her collar.

"I wouldn't go near her if I were you." Clem spun around to find Mick and his brother standing behind her. "You'll catch whatever she's got."

"Why do you care?" asked Clem, finding Mick's tone fairly unconcerned.

"Because if you get sick that's one more person me and my brother are stuck with who could get us sick," informed Mick. "And believe me, none of these people are going to help us if we get sick."

"You're not another weird kid, are you?" Matt asked Clem.

"Are you?" retorted Clem.

"I'm not a kid at all," retorted Matt. "I'm fourteen."

"Really?" she asked in disbelief. "You don't look like it."

"Yeah, well you look like shit!" snapped Matt.

"He's kinda touchy about how short he is," informed Mick.

"I'm not short!" insisted Matt. "I just, haven't hit my growth spurt."

"You've been saying that for like two years. By the time it finally happens you'll be short for fifteen or sixteen, or fifty." Matt crossed his arms and made a pouty face. "Say, is that your sister sitting over there?" Clem noticed Mick was staring at Sarah, an odd smile forming on his face.

"No, she's just a friend," informed Clem.

"She got a name?"

"Why do you want to know?" asked Clementine, suspicious of Mick's motives.

"Just, being friendly. Wanting to know who you people are."

"Last night you said you didn't care who we were."

"Well, not then because I wanted to sleep. Now, I want to know."

"Then why didn't you ask me what my name is?"

"What's you name?" asked an annoyed Mick.

"And why didn't you ask anyone else their names?"

"Forget it, I'll ask her myself."

"Away from the door!" Clem looked over at the small gate in the fence. She saw Maude, Consuelo, Tom, and a heavyset middle-aged man with a beard and a mustache standing outside.

"What's going on?" Clem asked Mick.

"It's just breakfast." Maude unlatched the gate and entered with the other three guards. Past them was another person, a thin short man with glasses pushing a cart into the pen. The cart had an orange water cooler on it, some cups and a stack of plates.

"Everyone front and center," ordered Maude in an authoritative tone. Clementine jumped as she felt something brush past her leg. She watched in disbelief as someone emerged from under the bed she was standing next to. It was another boy, about Matt's size with messy red hair.

"Who the hell is he?" asked Christa as she looked at the new boy in bewilderment. Clementine couldn't help staring at the huge scars on the boy's face. She felt sick upon seeing one of his ears had been mutilated and gasped when she saw his right eye was missing, seeing just a misshapen red hole where it used to be.

"Oh yeah, forgot to mention the weird kid," mused Mick as he lined up by the cart.

"Was he here last night?" asked a confused Christa. "How do you just forget about someone?"

"You'll forget about him too," insisted Mick. "Sleeps under his bed, never says a word."

"Never?" asked Walter.

"Well, you'll get a 'yes' or a 'no' or an 'I don't know' out of him, and sometimes I hear him mumbling to himself. But you can't carry on a conversation with him."

"Why not?" asked Walter.

"I don't know, why don't you ask him?" suggested Mick.

"Enough talk, you can socialize at lunch," dictated Maude. "For now, you get your water, you get your breakfast, and then you will get to work. We've got a lot of catching up to do today." Clementine watched as Mick moved to the cart. The thin short man in glasses filled a cup from the cooler and handed it and a plate to Mick.

"A lot of you are new, so listen closely." The short thin man in glasses handed the one-eyed boy a cup and a plate. The boy immediately darted away and into a corner where he hastily chugged the water, as if he hadn't had anything to drink in days.

"You will eat and then return your plate, cup and utensil to Edmund. Nothing more." Clem watched as the one-eyed boy started shoveling food into his mouth with his bare hands. It was then Clem noticed he was actually missing a few fingers on his right hand.

"New girl, you're holding up the line." Maude's words brought Clem back to her senses. She moved to Edmund, received her plate and cup, then sat down on a bed next to Sarah.

"Is this, scrambled eggs?" Clem studied the yellow concoction sitting on her plate. There were small bits of green in it as well, but it did look like eggs.

"It doesn't look like half an egg even," noted a disappointed Sarah as she studied the portion.

"But, it's real egg?" Not content waiting for an answer, Clem grabbed the plastic spork sitting on her plate and tasted the egg. Much to her surprise, it wasn't good, it was incredible. It was still warm even, and something in it gave it a slightly spicy taste.

Clem found herself instinctively gobbling up the egg in no time. Looking at the rest of her plate, she saw a couple of cucumber slices and part of a strawberry. The strawberry was heavenly and the first time Clem remembered tasting fruit not from a can in months. The cucumbers were also savory, so much that upon realizing her plate was empty, Clem found herself disappointed she had eaten so quickly. Clem drank her water and handed the plate, spork and cup back to Edmund.

"Please, Maude," begged Felicity. "Can't you give me anything?" Looking at the trembling woman, Clem noticed she had only a cup and no plate. "You can not feed me tomorrow or—"

"No, don't ask me again," dictated Maude in a cold tone.

"Wait, Greg said if I—"

"Greg's dead," informed Maude in an equally cold tone.

"Well what about the rest of you?" Felicity turned to other guards. "I'll do anything. Anything!"

"Any takers?" asked Maude.

"You were never my type," answered the bearded man.

"And I don't do girls." Consuelo looked at Mick. "You don't need something for your brother again, do you?" Consuelo's gaze seemed to terrify Mick.

"Tom, please," begged Felicity to the athletic man in red.

"I got cigarettes this week instead of canned goods," informed an apologetic Tom. "Maybe next—"

"That's a no," clarified Maude. "And I don't do trades. So you'll just have to hold out for now."

"Here, you can have the rest of mine." Walter tried to offer his plate to Felicity, but Maude stepped in between them.

"You'll do no such thing," informed Maude.

"I can't give her my food?" asked an infuriated Walter.

"It's not yours to give," retorted Maude. "It's for your consumption only. Nothing more."

"What does it matter if she eats it instead of me?"

"Her getting a handout defeats the point of her being punished."

"Punished for what?"

"She allowed an unauthorized departure from our compound."

"Pete said he was going to check on his traps, just like every morning," rationalized Felicity. "How could I have known he wasn't coming back?"

"Do you know her?" Clem whispered to Sarah.

"Not really," whispered Sarah. "But, she was the one watching the gate the morning we left."

"You should have reported to Mr. Carver like you were instructed," lectured Maude.

"So you're not feeding her because of a clerical error?" asked a disgusted Walter.

"That, clerical error, compromised the safety of all of us," retorted Maude. "And not that it's any of your business, she's not being fed today because she refused to work yesterday."

"I tried, but I just couldn't keep up," cried a desperate Felicity. "I'll work harder when I get better, I promise. Just give me another chance."

"This is your second chance," informed Maude in a cold tone.

"So what if I just give her my food anyway?" asked a defiant Walter. "What will happen then?"

"I'll take it from her and you'll have nothing to eat on your next meal as well."

Walter stared at the angry little woman. "You know what, I'll save you the trouble." Walter thrust his plate into Maude's hands. "If she's not eating, I'm not." Felicity looked at Walter in surprise, shocked by his gesture.

"So be it." Maude put the plate back on the cart. "Anyone not done eating, finish. It's time to move." Sarah and Christa put their plates on the cart as Edmund pushed it out of the pen.

"Hungry loudmouth," Maude said to Walter. "You're with Tom. Felicity with Consuelo. Pregnant woman with Richard. Matt, Mick, glasses, baseball cap, and the wild child are all with me."

"Wait, what are you doing with the kids?" asked Christa.

"Children outside." Maude gestured to the gate with her gun. "The rest of you know what to do." Clem watched as the bearded man took Christa by the arm and pulled her away. "Forward. Both of you." Maude shoved both Clem and Sarah towards the door, where the others were already standing. "Start marching." Clem did as she was told, moving forward with the rest of the group.

Looking at Sarah, Clem could tell she was upset. Clem herself felt sick as they were marched forward. The reality of being at the mercy of the same people who killed Pete and beat her felt all the more crushing to Clementine with every step she took. A horrible thought entered the girl's mind as she stared at the towering walls surrounding her. Clem realized she might never leave this place.

So frightening was this to the young girl she reached over and grabbed Sarah's hand, desperate for any kind of comfort. Clementine squeezed the older girl's hand, and felt a slight tinge of relief when Sarah squeezed back. Clem was too frightened to say anything out loud, but she inched closer to Sarah, brushing against her arm in a desperate attempt to make contact.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen!" Clementine looked across the yard to find a very tall rolling ladder out in the open. At the very top was Bill seated in a small recliner with a megaphone in his hand. "It's February the twenty-third, another beautiful day, and already I have some good news. Some of our wayward residents have returned to us, including our local physician. However, on a bittersweet note, old Pete won't be coming back, evidently more comfortable taking his chances in the wilds than to stay with us." Clem felt sicker upon hearing Bill's casual announcement of Pete's fate.

"We've also got some new faces today," continued Bill. "An older gentleman named Walter. A fiery pregnant gal called Christa. And a little girl in a baseball hat who goes by Clementine. I expect you all to give them the same respect and courtesy you give each other. After all, they'll probably be joining you soon enough."

"Bullshit…" mumbled Mick under his breath.

"Remember now, don't wish things were easier, wish you were better. You do that and before long, things will be better, because we made them that way. All of us." Clem looked towards the cargo container they were approaching. It was open on both ends, appearing to be a tunnel into another area walled off by closed containers.

"Head inside and take a seat," instructed Maude as everyone passed into the container.

"Seat for what?" Maude slammed the container doors closed, sealing everyone inside.


	32. Making Friends

Clementine walked with the others, emerging from the tunnel into a small open area bordering one side of the fence. There were three folding tables arranged in front of what looked like an office desk and a pair of whiteboards. Each of the folding tables had two chairs, one of which the one-eyed boy immediately sat down in.

"What is this?" Clem asked Mick.

"Got me," shrugged Mick as he headed for the table on the right. "By now Matt and I are usually toting shit around while listening to some assholes talk about what a shitty job we're doing." Mick sat down and put his feet up on the table, an action Matt immediately mimicked. "Anything that gets us out of work is fine by me."

Clementine walked with Sarah to the table in the middle and sat down. Clem looked over to the one-eyed boy sitting in the table across from her. He seemed completely uninterested in what was happening, his remaining eye glazed over as he stared off into nothing.

"What did they do to him?" asked Clementine.

"If by they, you mean the assholes running this place, I don't think they did anything," answered Mick. "He looked like that when they put him in the pen like a month ago. Like I said, he never really talks, unless one of the people in charge ask him something. Even then, he just does whatever they tell him to."

"What's his name?" asked Sarah.

"Hell if I know," shrugged Mick. "Why don't you ask him?"

Sarah turned to the boy. "Um… what's your name?" The boy said nothing in response. "I'm Sarah, and this is Clementine. You don't have to be afraid of us. We won't hurt you." Clem watched for any sign that the boy was hearing Sarah, but saw nothing.

"Something really horrible happened to him," realized Clem.

"Like what?" asked a worried Sarah.

"I don't know. Maybe his—"

"You… you're nice girls," mumbled the boy in a weary voice, not even looking in Sarah and Clem's direction.

"Um, thanks," smiled Sarah.

"Bad things… happen to nice girls," the boy said, seemingly talking to himself.

"What?" asked a startled Sarah. "Why would you say that?" The boy didn't answer.

"Like I said, you can't talk to him," insisted Mick. "Hell, that was more than he usually says in a week." The sound of the cargo door creaking open caught everyone's attention. Everyone watched as a redheaded girl with a ponytail entered the area. She looked to be around Mick's age, was dressed in a turquoise tracksuit, had a radio attached to her waistband, and her green eyes carried a kind of confidence Clem didn't see in most people these days.

"Well, this just got better," smirked Matt as he stared at the new girl.

"Ugh." The girl turned away from Matt in disgust and went right for the only empty remaining seat. "Not bad enough to be locked in a room with this place's trash, I also got stuck with some weirdo," griped the girl as she looked at the one-eyed child. "Hey, weirdo, what's your deal? What happened to your eye?" The boy didn't answer. "Hey, I'm talking to you." Still no response. "Hey! Say something!" The boy said nothing. "Weirdo." The girl turned towards Clementine's direction. "Sarah?" she asked in surprise.

"Um, hi Bridget," greeted Sarah in a meek voice.

"You know her?" asked Clem.

"Kinda."

"So it's true. You and your dad came back. But where have…" A wicked smile crept across Bridget's face. "Oh, you two are in the pen now."

"Actually, I don't know where my dad is," answered a distressed Sarah. "I haven't seen him since last night."

"They're probably torturing him or something." Clem watched as Sarah started struggling to breathe.

"Don't tell her that," protested an angry Clementine.

"Who are you, her girlfriend?" asked a sarcastic Bridget. "Why are you holding her hand?" Clem didn't even realize she was still holding Sarah's hand.

"They were spooning in bed this morning too," added Mick.

"Eww, sick."

Clementine hastily let go of Sarah's hand. "We're… I mean, she's, just scared," insisted an embarrassed Clem.

"Are you like her prison bitch or something?" asked Bridget. "No wait, she's probably your bitch. That's why she's got that pink headband thing on. So everyone knows she's the property of a kindergartener."

"We're just friends," insisted Clem.

"Leave it to a loser like Sarah to make friends with a stupid little kid," mocked Bridget.

"Clementine's not stupid," insisted Sarah in a shaky voice. "She's really smart. And really brave too."

"Compared to what, you?" asked Bridget. "Because my mom's chickens are braver than you. Smarter too."

"Leave her alone," demanded Clem.

"Or what, you'll make your face even uglier?" said Bridget.

"Just what the hell did happen to your face?" asked Matt.

"A mean woman hit her with a gun," answered a trembling Sarah. "It was horrible."

"God, you're such a fucking baby," spoke Bridget in disgust. "I bet if someone pulled your pants down we'd find out you're wearing a diaper."

"I wouldn't mind pulling her pants down," volunteered Mick.

"Eww, really?" said Matt.

"You two want to see her cry?" Bridget asked Matt and Mick. "Hey Sarah, the toilet in the pen is next to a fence. People can watch you go to the bathroom." Bridget's observation disturbed Sarah, and made Clementine feel sick herself. "Not that anyone would want to watch your ugly ass."

"Shut up!" yelled Clementine.

"Hey Sarah, your dad is dead!" Sarah threw her hands over ears, whimpering to herself while tears welled up in her eyes. "You're more pathetic than the weird kid here." Bridget turned to the one-eyed child, and was surprised to see he was staring at her.

"What's your problem freak?" The boy appeared angry now. His eye glared at Bridget while his whole body seemed to tense up, as if he was going to pounce. "You got something to say?"

"Just stop already," said Clem.

"Make me you dumb kid," retorted Bridget.

"You're just a bully."

"Ouch, that stings. You're a little bitch."

"Oh yeah, you… you're a cunt!" Sarah looked at Clem in surprise while Matt started laughing out loud.

"The little kid just called you a—"

"I heard her you asshole!" Bridget barked at Matt. "You can't talk to me like that you little bitch."

"Why not?" scoffed Clem.

"Because you live in the pen with the rest of the trash. Pen people can't talk to me like that."

"Well I just did," noted Clementine with a smirk. "Cunt."

"I'll tell my mom what you said and—"

"You'll tell your mom?" mocked Clem. "What are you, a baby?" Matt giggled at Clem's comment.

"My mom's really important and when she hears what you said you'll be in big trouble," explained Bridget. "I bet they'll stop feeding you when they hear what you said." Clem tensed up when she heard that and the sound of the cargo container opening just made Clem more nervous.

Everyone watched as a young man with curly light brown hair entered the area with a pair of books in hand. Looking closely, Clem recognized him as the man leaving Bill's office last night.

"Sorry I'm late everyone," he said in a friendly voice as he placed his books on the desk. "I was—"

"Gene," called Bridget. "This new girl just called me a cunt. Twice."

The man turned and looked right at Clementine. "Is that true?"


	33. Shaffer’s School for Unfortunate Children

"She wouldn't stop trying to make Sarah cry," explained a nervous Clementine as Gene looked at her. "She was saying all these horrible things to her, like her dad was dead, and—"

"All right, enough." Gene turned to Bridget. "Bridget, if you don't want people calling you a cunt, then don't act like one."

"What!" Matt started laughing out loud while Bridget sat dumbfounded by Gene's suggestion. Clem felt a little relieved, figuring she wouldn't have to stop eating because of what she said.

"She's from the pen," reasoned Bridget. "She can't—"

"Bridget, in my classroom you're not getting any special treatment just because you're my only student not from the pen."

"Oh yeah, well my mom—"

"I just finished talking to your mother," said Gene. "She feels the same way."

"No way." Bridget pulled the radio off her waistband and held the talk button down. "Mom!"

"What is it dear?" answered an older woman in a weary voice.

"Gene says that you said—"

"Bridget, if you're going to insist on joining Bill's crew one day, then you need to stop calling me about every little thing that happens," said Bridget's mom. "Now, if you want to come home, then—"

"Oh, I get it," snapped Bridget. "This is just another way to trick me into thinking that joining the crew is a bad idea."

"No, Bridget—" Bridget turned the radio off and slammed it down on the desk.

"Well, now that we've settled that, let's get started," suggested Gene.

"With what?" asked Mick. "What the hell are we doing here?"

"We're at school you idiot," informed Bridget.

"Bridget, enough. And yes, this is a school, and I'm your teacher, Eugene Spiegel, but you can just call me Gene to save time." Gene smiled at his class. "Now, why don't we start by going around the room and getting acquainted." Gene turned to Mick. "What's your name?"

Mick smirked. "I'm Butt-head and this is my brother Beavis." Matt giggled.

"Really? Interesting names. Bit hard to remember though. How bout I just call you Mick and Matt for short?" Mick glowered in response. "And how old are you?"

"I'm sixteen, he's fourteen," informed Mick.

"And you?" Gene turned to Sarah.

"I'm Sarah and I'm thirteen."

"My name is Clementine. I'm nine."

"You know who I am." Gene stared at Bridget until she groaned. "Bridget, seventeen."

"And you son?" Gene turned to the one-eyed boy, who didn't respond. "Come on. We talked  
about this. Tell me your name."

"Ad… Adam?" The boy sounded like he wasn't sure if that actually was his name or not.

"And, how old are you?"

"Ten?" he answered without looking up.

"All right, now are there any questions before we get started?"

Sarah raised her hand. "Um, what are we going to be learning at this school?" she asked.

"Good question," said Gene. "Obviously we're not going to have a typical curriculum, seeing as these are atypical times. For most of the morning we're going to do pretty basic school work, albeit work tailored to better fit with our current circumstances. After that we'll have one of the members of the crew teaching you useful skills relating to survival. Today however I'm just going to teach you everything we know about lurkers, since they've become a big part of our day to day life.

"Then, after lunch, you'll break into groups of two and spend the rest of the day with a key member of the community learning about their particular trade while aiding them in their day to day tasks. Now, it seems like you've all got your study partners figured out."

"Wait, I gotta be paired up with this weird kid?" asked Bridget. "Can't I just do mine by myself?"

"No Bridget, you can't," refuted Gene. "Although, if you want to change partners before we start, that's possible." Bridget looked at the rest of her choices, and grimaced, which seemed to reflect how the rest of the class felt about working with Bridget, except Matt, who was smiling at her.

"Ugh." Bridget turned back to one-eyed boy, who was staring off into space again. "At least you don't talk, I guess."

"Any other questions before we get started?" asked Gene

"Are we gonna get graded on this stuff or something?" asked Matt.

"Not specifically, no," answered Gene.

"Well, what's the point then?" asked Mick. "I mean, why should we even bother?"

"You should bother because I'm going to be teaching you things you need to know," instructed Gene. "This is for your benefit, all of you. And even though you're not being graded, I and anyone else who are instructing you we will be observing you very carefully. So, if you're hoping to do something other than tote boxes around here in the future, this would be a good time to apply yourself. But if you two feel classes are a waste of time, just say the word and I'll have Maude take you back to your regular work." Mick and Matt exchanged annoyed glances. "Any more questions?"

"Will there be any homework?" asked Clementine.

"Brace yourselves for this," warned Gene. "There will be no homework. I know, tragic. Just one of the many sacrifices you children have to make in these trying times." Gene turned to one of the whiteboards and started writing on it with a marker. "Now, if there aren't any other questions, let's get warmed up with some simple multiplication and division."

"Really?" asked Matt. "It's like the end of the world and we still gotta do math?"

"Yeah, didn't you say this stuff was gonna be things we need to know?" asked Bridget. "When are we going to use this nerdy stuff anymore?"

"That nerdy stuff is a pretty big part of our schedules around here," retorted Gene. "We regularly calculate the yield of your mom's coop and the greenhouse divided by the portions served and the number of people we have to figure out our ratio of renewable food to nonrenewable food, which tells us just how long our current supplies will last."

"Yeah… but that's stuff you do here," reasoned Bridget. "The people who go out looking for stuff don't need to know this."

"Actually a big part of supply runs is knowing how far we can travel on how much fuel we have left." Gene gestured to the board. "If your vehicle gets on average twenty miles to the gallon and you have ten gallons of gas, how far could you get?"

Sarah raised her hand. "Two hundred miles," she answered.

"That's the furthest you could go, but you also need to consider your return trip. So if you only go halfway before you have to turn around, your point of no return would be half the total distance you could travel. So, you divide two hundred by two and get, say, Clementine?"

"Um…" Clem found herself at a loss. "I… I never learned how to divide before I stopped going to school," she confessed.

"Dumbass," mocked Bridget. "It's a hundred."

"Bridget, enough," warned Gene. "Clementine, just…" Gene paused, trying to think of something.

"Maybe I could help her?" suggested Sarah.

"Sure, you can be Clementine's personal tutor," realized Gene. "You work with her while I quiz the others. Bridget, since you're so eager to answer, I'll start with you."

"Dividing is just like subtracting, but you do it more than once," explained Sarah.

"What do you mean?" asked Clem.

"Like, to figure out twenty-five divided by five, you take away five until you get to zero, and how many times you took it away is your answer." Sarah took Clem's hand and balled it into a fist. "So, you got twenty-five. What happens if you subtract five?"

"It'd be twenty." Sarah uncurled one of Clem's fingers.

"Now, take five away from twenty?"

"Fifteen." Sarah uncurled another finger, leaving two fingers standing on Clem's hand.

"Now take five away from—"

"Ten." Clem raised a third finger. "Five." A fourth. "Zero." Clem looked at her five fingers. "Twenty-five divided by five is… five?"

"That's right."

"But how did Bridget figure out two-hundred divided by two so fast?"

"Well, you remember how when you subtract big numbers, you put them on top of each other and subtract part of the number at a time?"

"Kinda."

"You can do something like that for dividing," said Sarah. "You look at it as two, zero and zero, then divide each number by two. Two divided by two is one. You can't divide by zero, so those are both zeros. So you got one, zero, zero. One hundred. Get it?"

"I think so," said Clem. "Does that mean multiplying is like adding more than once?"


	34. Come for the Food

"Okay, so far we've covered the rapid transformation that occurs after someone dies that turns them into a lurker, how that changes the body, their bizarre tendency to stop rotting after a certain point, their general impervious nature to anything that does not destroy their brain, their instinctive need to kill and eat living things, as well as how that has no relationship to their well-being," recapped Gene. "What else?"

"How bout how to kill them?" suggested Bridget. "You know, the only thing we need to know?"

"Right, killing lurkers." Gene took his marker and drew an arrow pointing to the head of a figure he drew earlier. "You destroy the brain. Typical methods include gunshots and blunt objects. Now, moving on to—"

"Oh come on, you spend like twenty minutes talking about how they rot, but only five seconds on how to fight them?" protested Bridget. "I thought you were teaching us stuff we need to know?"

"If you had been paying attention, Bridget, you'd realize this is stuff you need to know," said Gene. "How they rot affects their effectiveness. Freshly made lurkers have more muscle mass, making them stronger and more dangerous. Whereas ones who have decomposed for some time have fragile limbs. If you find yourself without a means to destroy the brain, aim at one of their legs. There's a good chance you could break it, greatly reducing their mobility."

"Cool," said Bridget.

"Since their senses of sight and touch degrade considerably not long after transformation, Lurkers hunt mostly by sound, smell and taste, and in that order. Following noises, they're at their most gullible, and without smelling prey nearby, can be fooled repeatedly.

"Once they've smelled something alive they become more focused, ignoring most noises. In addition to living people, most animals and even just fresh blood will attract a lurker. Once they've tasted blood they feed until such time they no longer taste fresh blood, or they hear something loud enough to distract them and start the whole process over."

"These things sound like wimps," said Bridget. "Dumb wimps. Slow, dumb, wimps."

"What they lack in cunning and agility they make up for in tenacity and willpower. They don't sleep, they don't eat, they don't feel pain, and they never stop. Slow as they are they can cover a lot of ground because they never rest. Their average speed is around two miles an hour, but over twenty-four hours of nonstop movement they can—"

"Wait, I know," interrupted Clem as she tried to figure the problem in her head. "It's… forty-eight, right?"

"Yes, about fifty miles a day if they hear something loud enough. Even if one of you went four miles an hour, a fairly modest pace, you'd have to walk for twelve hours straight, at that speed, to equal the same distance they'll travel in the other twelve hours you'll need to use for sleeping, eating and everything else we need to do to stay alive.

"And there are the bites. Lurker bites are fatally toxic. This seems to be specific to bites as we've had people scratched by lurkers and plenty have come in contact with them alive or dead and been fine. But something in the bite will kill you, usually within a few hours. And the only known cure is simply removing the part of the body that was bitten," explained Gene in a grim tone.

"Are you sure about that?" asked Clementine. "I knew someone who cut off his arm after he was bitten and… it didn't work."

"We've had two people survive bites because of amputation. But we've also had three die after amputating, although one was likely from blood loss…" Gene trailed off as he momentarily lost his train of thought.

"So, even though it's possible, it's not exactly a fool proof solution. Especially if you're bitten somewhere you can't cut off." Gene took a breath and looked at his watch. "Well, it's close enough to lunch for a break. So, unless any of you have any questions?" Clem thought to herself, then raised her hand. "Yes?"

"Why don't the walkers attack each other?" asked Clem.

"Like I said, they only seem interested in living things," explained Gene. "Anything else?"

Clem thought carefully. "No."

"Great. Here's hoping I haven't put you kids off your appetites." As Gene moved to the door, Clem noticed Adam was looking in her direction. She couldn't tell if he was looking at her, or just staring off in Clem's general direction since he had the same bored stare he had all through class.

"Maude, open up," called Gene as he knocked on the cargo door leading out.

"Yes?" asked Maude as she cracked the door.

"We're kicking off for lunch," explained Gene.

"It's still six minutes to twelve," informed Maude as she checked her wristwatch.

"Really Maude?" asked an annoyed Gene.

"I'll have to inform Mr. Carver." Maude removed a radio from her belt. She tinkered with one of the knobs and held the talk button. "Mr. Carver, sir, come in."

"What is it?" barked Bill's voice over the radio.

"Mr. Spiegel wants the go-ahead to leave his class before—"

"Just do what Gene tells you!" snapped Bill.

"Tell the old bag to go—" Consuelo's voice was cut off suddenly when Maude twisted a knob on her radio.

"All right everyone. Move out." Maude led the group to an area in the middle of the yard where a large tent had been erected. Bordering it on one side was yet another cargo container. Looking closer, Clem could see this container was smaller than others and had a chunk cut out of the side to make for a window. Beneath that was a slab of metal welded onto the container, creating a kind of table. The top featured a pair of chimneys made from sheets of metal, which were currently billowing black smoke.

"Residents first," dictated Maude as she positioned herself by the window.

"That's right, we go first," bragged Bridget as she and Gene moved to the window. Clementine watched as a pair of portly arms reached through the window and set out a pair of large bowls. Then a pair of small bowls. Bridget and Gene took one of each, then moved under the tent. Mick and Matt went next, receiving only a large bowl each. Then Adam, who after getting his bowl started hastily slurping whatever was in it while lurching away from the group.

Clem moved to the window next, Sarah following right behind her. Looking inside Clem saw a couple of very big stew pots over a large fire. She watched as the Edmund person from earlier threw a few pieces of wood into the fires.

"Well, who do we have here?" Clementine looked up to find a slightly chubby man in an apron standing over her. "What's your name precious?" he asked with a smile.

"Um… Clementine."

"And do my eyes deceive me, is that really you Sarah?" asked the man in a jovial voice.

"Yeah, hi Cookie," greeted a meek Sarah.

"And here I was thinking Thanksgiving was the last I was ever going to see of you," said Cookie.

"You… you haven't seen my dad have you?" asked Sarah, desperate for an answer.

"No, but you all are my first customers of the day. Once things get going—"

"Cookie, you're holding things up," said Maude.

Cookie poked his head out the window and looked for anyone else. "Holding who up Maude?" he asked with a smirk.

"Holding me up," she retorted, clearly not amused. "Give them their food and move on."

"Right, right." Cookie set out a couple of big bowls. Looking inside Clem saw a soup of some kind with tiny bits of vegetable floating in it. Next came a pair of smaller bowls with what looked like canned peaches inside.

"No," halted Maude. "Pen people don't get canned goods."

"Wait, Bill's keeping both of them in the pen?" asked Cookie in disbelief.

"As of now, yes," answered Maude.

"Really, even that little girl?" asked Cookie.

"What part of yes did you not understand?" asked an annoyed Maude. "Do you want me to call Mr. Carver so he can tell you himself?"

Cookie sighed and set the smaller bowls back inside. "Sorry girls," he said in an apologetic tone. Just as Clem picked up her bowl someone slammed an empty one right next to hers. Looking over, Clem saw Adam darting out of sight. Cookie picked up the empty bowl while Sarah collected her food.

"Move along." Clem followed Maude's order and headed towards the tent. Laid out underneath were three rows of tables. Clem could see Bridget and Gene seated at the row farthest from the food line, Mick and Matt were at the closest row. Maude moved past Clem and Sarah and took a seat in the middle row. Not sure what else to do, Clem sat down near Mick.

"Do we get anything to drink?" Clem asked Mick.

"Right there." Mick gestured to an orange water cooler sitting on the middle of the table.

"Where are the cups?" asked Sarah as she sat down. "And spoons?"

"We're not important enough to get those for lunch," scoffed Matt.

"You gotta just sip it, and when you're done, use your bowl for water, and no more than a bowl full," explained Mick. "Believe me, tight ass over there will make a big deal about it if you do. Same goes for trying to share." Clem looked over to see Maude was watching from her table. "Cranky old bitch has nothing better to do with her life." Clem carefully lifted up the bowl to take a sip. Much like the eggs she had this morning, she was surprised that it actually tasted really good.

"Wish she'd leave again," commented Matt as he stared in Maude's direction. "The few days when most of the crew was gone were awesome."

"For you maybe. You kept getting Lloyd. Felicity and me were always stuck with the Dick." Mick turned to Sarah. "So, how is it you're new here but you already know Cookie?"

"I'm not new here," answered Sarah. "I lived here for a long time. But I had to stay in my room."

"What, all of the time?" asked a dubious Matt.

"Pretty much. When I first came here I stayed in the main building for a while. Then when they finished the rooms I stayed there," answered Sarah. "My dad let me come here for Thanksgiving dinner. That's when I met Cookie."

"Is that also when you met Bridget?" asked Clem as she set her bowl down.

"Yeah," answered Sarah in a less than enthusiastic voice. "I didn't know there was anyone else my age here, so I went over to her and told her my name, and asked if she wanted to be friends."

"And she didn't want to be your friend," assumed Clem.

"When I asked her why, she said I'm a loser. Then when I asked how could she know that if she just met me, she said I look like one. And when I said 'I do?', she got really mad and started yelling at me," Sarah's voice wavered as she recalled the incident. "And then I got upset, and she asked if I was going to cry and started saying I was a baby, and I did cry, and my dad got angry and…" Sarah trailed off.

"I'm sorry Sarah," said Clem.

"You know, I could be your friend," suggested Mick with a smirk.

"Really?" asked a pleasantly surprised Sarah.

"Yeah, really?" asked Matt, less than pleased.

"Why do you want to be her friend?" asked Clem in a less than friendly voice.

"I like her. What, you're the only one who can be her friend?" asked Mick. "Why don't you let her decide?"

"Well, it would be nice—"

"If you like her how come you didn't stand up for her when Bridget was trying to make her cry?" asked Clem.

"You were handling it," said Mick. "What's—"

"And… why did you say you wanted to pull my pants down?" asked Sarah, her voice more uneasy than before.

"You know what, forget it," grumbled Mick as he turned back to his meal. Looking around, Clem noticed more people had sat down while they were talking. She saw Hector and two other people at Bridget's table, and three more at Maude's table, two of which she didn't recognize, and none of which were actually sitting next to Maude. Looking over back towards Cookie's container, she saw a bearded man approaching with a familiar woman right behind him.

"Christa!" Clem jumped out of the chair and ran over to her.

"Clementine!" Christa put her arms around Clem. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"No, we were just at school," informed Clem.

"School?"

"Are you okay?" asked Clem. "What did they do?"

"I've been boiling and moving water all fucking morning." Christa's eyes narrowed as she watched the bearded man get his meal. "And that man wouldn't shut up the entire time I was doing it."

"Did he hurt you?" asked a worried Clem.

"He was driving me crazy with his bullshit. Other than that I'm okay." Christa looked at the makeshift kitchen. "So, this the gruel line?"

"Um… it's some kind of soup," said Clem. "It's really good actually."

"Really?" Clem nodded. "A prison camp with gourmet food. This place is getting weirder with every minute." As Christa went to get her bowl, Clem noticed Tom approaching with a very tired looking Walter lagging behind him.

"Walter?" Clem approached the weary man. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Wood," answered Walter. "Chopping and stacking wood. Lots of it." Walter surveyed the area. "Is that woman here? Felicity?"

"She won't be here," answered Tom as he got his bowls. "Like Maude said, she's not getting any meals today, so she wouldn't be here."

"Well, then I don't need to be here since I'm not eating either." Maude leapt out of her seat and headed right to Walter.

"Just sit down," insisted Tom as he intercepted Maude. "I'll handle it." Tom moved in very close to Walter. He pushed the man away from the others and started whispering in his ear. Clem couldn't hear what they were saying, but she saw as Walter's face seemed to sink as Tom talked to him. Walter sighed and moved to the window to collect a bowl.

"See, handled it," Tom boasted to Maude. "Why don't you go back to looking for line cutters?" Clem went back to her seat, now joined by Christa and Walter.

"Jesus Walter," said Christa in a concerned voice.

"Yeah dude," said Mick. "You're gonna get yourself killed on your first day."

"An event few in this place would be concerned with, I'm sure," grumbled an embittered Walter.

"I'd care," said Sarah.

"Me too," added Clem.

"Be careful saying that out loud," warned Walter in a hushed voice.

"Why?" Christa's eyes narrowed. "What did that guy just say to you?"

Walter surveyed the area, checking to see if anyone was hovering around the table. "He said, 'Don't do this. Don't starve yourself. I see too much of that as it is."

"Wait, that's all he said?" asked an underwhelmed Christa.

"Why did he have to whisper that?" asked Clem.

"Why indeed?" said Walter. "It's like basic human decency has been outlawed in this place."

"Dude, why you getting all worked up over this Felicity chick?" asked Mick. "She used to be one of the guards here, and you literally just met her this morning. You hoping she'll put out if you try to be her hero?"

"No, I just find it disturbing when a woman is begging for food and I'm not allowed to give her the few scraps I have in my hand," retorted Walter. "I guess I'm the only one."

"It… it bothered me too," said Sarah.

"She looked so sick," spoke Clem in a sad voice.

"Honestly, it bothered me more when she said she'd do anything, and that bunch of sickos started sizing her up," noted a disgusted Christa. "Like they were out shopping for a piece of meat."

"You might as well get used to it now," suggested Mick. "Me and Matt have been here for a while, and stuff like this is just business as usual. Happens all the time."

"It… it does?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"Yeah, was happening right around you when you were hiding in your room," accused Matt. "You were probably getting your water from us half the time."

"I… I didn't know," stuttered Sarah.

"Leave her alone," said Clem. "It's not her fault you're here."

"Let it go Matt," suggested Mick.

"No way. You and me get worked every day because of people like her," retorted Matt. "I mean, what did you think? The water fairy brought you something to drink every day?"

"No, I… I just figured it was people who wanted to help," answered a meek Sarah. "That's all."

"You think people just wanted to help you?" repeated Matt. "That's just stupid."

"No, it isn't," said Walter. "Wanting to help your fellow man and woman is a basic instinct we all share."

"Clearly not all of us," noted Christa as she glared at the brothers.

"Even if we did, I think our survival instinct is more important these days," added Mick.

"Compassion is part of survival," countered Walter.

"So, what, we can survive if we're just nice to each other?" asked a dubious Mick.

"In a sense, yes," said Walter.

"Really?" asked Sarah.

"Altruism developed in us, as well as other species, because it better enabled us to survive," said Walter. "It's one of the things that's helped us prosper."

"Now you're just full of shit," scoffed Mick.

"No he's not," said Clem.

"It's been studied that in some mammals that one member of the species will call to the others to warn them of predators, even though it puts that one member at greater risk. Why?"

"Because it was stupid?" suggested Matt.

"Because it wanted to help?" said Sarah.

"Because it was better for the species as a whole," answered Walter. "Better to sacrifice for the good of many than to preserve the one at all costs. The more plentiful a species, the more likely it will survive, which means the more likely a single member will survive. In a sense, it's in your own best interests to help others, if just because it means there will be more people who will be more willing to help you in the end. A mutual desire to both survive and prosper."

"Well that's great in theory, but I don't think it works in practice," said Mick. "Why should I, personally, risk myself for anyone, especially these days? I don't care about us as a species. Why should I bother taking a chance helping someone?"

"Because one day someone might have to take a chance for you," said Walter. "No man is an island. At some point, you'll need help yourself."

"You know where Matt and I ended up the last time I thought about asking for help? We ended up here. And we're still here. All because I thought that big yard full of people might be willing to help a couple of guys who weren't even old enough to drink yet."

"Last time I asked for help I ended up at his place." Christa gestured to Walter. "And he didn't make me wheel water barrels around for a meal."

"Yeah, and now you're both here, same as Matt and me," retorted Mick. "You can sit there and talk about how we should help each other all day, but the fact of the matter is, we simply don't. And shitty as this place is, it's probably as good as it gets anymore." Mick glared at Walter. "Well, you gonna tell me I'm wrong?"

"Actually, I was just wondering what happens if you're right," answered a dismayed Walter. "What if we, as a species, are doomed by our shortsighted tendencies and our inability to cooperate? Then what? What exactly do we, any of us sitting here at this table, have left to look forward to? Why are we even bothering to stay alive if this is all we can expect?" An uncomfortable silence followed Walter's question.

"Well…" said Mick, as if he was still searching for an answer. "I don't care what you people are staying alive for, but I've still got Matt." Matt smiled at his brother. "That's reason enough for me to stay alive."

"What about when he dies?" asked Clementine in a cold voice. Sarah looked at Clem in surprise, while the brothers shot daggers at her from across the table. Mick picked up his bowl and left the table without a word, a move followed shortly by Matt.


	35. Stay for the People

Maude called an end to lunch in her typical authoritative manner. Christa and Walter were taken away by Tom and the bearded man while Maude told the others at the table to wait for their instructors for the afternoon.

"Okay, is there an Adam here?" asked Byron as he approached the table, Bridget following right behind him. "Because Gene said—Jesus!" Adam emerged from under the table directly in front of Byron, who put his hand on his holster. "He's Adam?"

"Apparently," shrugged Bridget.

"Ohh… kay… well, you're with me today." Adam didn't respond. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes…" answered Adam in a quiet voice.

"All right, come on." Adam followed Byron and Bridget.

"You two Matt and Mick?" asked a slender man in greasy gray coveralls.

"I guess we're with you?" The man nodded at Mick. "All right." The brothers followed the man away from the tables.

"My… my dad never came to lunch," realized Sarah.

"Neither did Nick," added Clem.

"They're… they're not feeding him," concluded an anxious Sarah.

"Well, maybe—"

"What if they are torturing him?" asked a terrified Sarah. "Or what if… what's if he's already dead?" Clem took hold of Sarah's hand as she started weeping.

"Sarah, please don't cry," said Clem as she rubbed Sarah's hand. "I'm sure he's okay."

"You don't know that," spoke a choked Sarah.

"Well, no. But—"

"What's the matter dear?" Clem and Sarah looked up to see an elderly woman in overalls standing over them. She was a brawny looking woman with long gray hair and distinct green eyes brimming with concern. "What's bothering you?" The woman sat down in front of Sarah and took hold of her other hand.

"My dad didn't come to lunch, and no one's seen him. I'm worried that he's not eating, or worse."

"You're Carlos's daughter, right?" asked the woman.

"You know me?" asked Sarah.

"I'm Bridget's mother, Gertrude," introduced the woman. "Your father had a lot to say to me after Thanksgiving, which in turn led to me having a lot to say to my daughter. I suppose this doesn't mean much now, but I am sorry for what Bridget said that evening."

"You haven't seen my dad today, have you?" asked Sarah.

"No, I'm afraid not. But just because he didn't come to lunch doesn't mean he's not eating," assured Gertrude. "Edmund takes meals to people who can't stop what they're doing at noon."

"He used to bring me my meals when my dad couldn't," realized Sarah. "But, where's my dad?"

"I'm sure he'll be okay dear. I mean, they didn't bring him home just to hurt him. And he's our only doctor. So he's important here. They're…" Gertrude took a deep breath. "They're probably just making him do extra work, to get caught up since the crew was gone for so long."

"Are you sure?" asked Clementine, fairly certain Gertrude wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's all it is." Gertrude looked more closely at Clem. "You're Clementine right? Gene was telling me about you. I thought you'd be more Sarah's age."

"I'm nine and a half."

"And they're keeping you in the pen?" Clem nodded. "Well, hopefully that'll only be temporary." Clem could tell Gertrude was staring at her nose. "Did one of those boys do that to you?"

"Consuelo hit me with her gun."

"What? Why?"

"Probably because I shot off her thumb." Clem's answer clearly shocked Gertrude.

"George hit me because I pointed a gun at him," added Sarah. "And Pete… he…"

"No, no, just forget I asked," insisted Gertrude in a hasty fashion as she stood up. "That happened outside. It's over now and you're in here and you'll be fine. Now, just come on."

"Come on what?" asked Clem.

"You're… oh, right, I'm your, what did Gene call it, instructor, for the evening."

"Instructor for what?" asked a timid Sarah.

"I'm Shaffer's resident poultry farmer. If you eat any eggs, they come from my chickens," explained Gertrude with a sense of pride.

"So, we're gonna learn to be chicken farmers?" asked Clem.

"Well, as much as you can in one afternoon. Speaking of which, we should get started." Gertrude smiled and led the pair away from the tent.

"I still remember when I first started getting eggs for breakfast," noted Sarah. "It was like a month after I started living here."

"That was about the time I moved here. Gene convinced Bill to relocate as much as my farm here as we could," explained Gertrude.

"How do you and Gene know each other?" asked Clementine.

"He and Lauren came to my farm not long after the dead started coming back. They were just looking for a place safe from the lurkers. Eventually some of Shaffer's people found us and Gene worked out a deal so we could keep my birds here instead of on the farm. Gene also helped set up Lauren's greenhouse and Cookie's kitchen."

"Did he come up with the school too?" asked Sarah.

"Yep. Gene is basically Shaffer's idea man," explained Gertrude. "Always talking about how we're going to make a future here. When I first got here I thought he was crazy, but I'm starting to think if anyone could make it happen, it'd be him."

"But, he's not in charge," noted Clementine. "Bill is."

"Well, I don't get wrapped up in the politics around here. I just tend to my flock." Gertrude stopped in front of a white cargo container and unlocked the front. "Although, I've been trying to tell Gene it'd be better for the birds and us if we went free range."

Pulling the door open revealed a makeshift coop with a few dozen squawking residents. Fences bordered the edge of the container, creating a series of small cages lining the interior, each with no more than a single chicken. Three small square holes cut in the top of the container let in light.

"Unfortunately, Bill is apparently insistent on knowing how many eggs each individual chicken is laying," continued Gertrude as she grabbed a wire basket lying on the ground. "I keep telling Gene that I've been doing this since I was a teenager, I'll know when a hen stops laying. But apparently Bill won't have it." Gertrude handed the basket to Sarah and a clipboard to Clementine.

"We'll start simple," said Gertrude. "I want you two to collect all the eggs and keep a tally on which chickens laid and which haven't." Clem looked at the clipboard and noticed there was a crude diagram of the coop on it. "It's a simple two woman job. One of you collects, the other watches and keeps count. Should be done in no time.

"Normally Bridget and I do it in the morning, but since Gene wants you kids to get involved with the community you'll be doing it today. Obviously, handle the eggs carefully, and even more importantly, handle the basket even more carefully. Despite the saying, you do in fact put all your eggs in one basket, because who the hell has the time to drag along extra baskets when you don't need them?" Gertrude headed for the door.

"You're not staying?" asked Clementine.

"I'm going to get some feed out of storage. I'll be right back." Gertrude stopped at the entrance. "Remember to keep an accurate count." Gertrude took a step forward but stopped suddenly. "Oh, one last thing. Clementine?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't call my a daughter a cunt." Clem tensed up. "Even if she was acting like one." Gertrude smirked, then left the girls to their work. Clem looked peered into one of the cages and looked at the chicken inside. It seemed kind of thin for a chicken and some of its feathers were missing.

"So, this doesn't look too hard," said Sarah. "As long as they don't peck me I guess."

"They look kinda hungry." Sarah moved to the first cage and reached over to pick up an egg. "That's one." Clem took a pencil wedged on the clipboard and made a mark on the corresponding cage on the diagram.

"It's smaller than the ones we used to get in stores." Sarah held the egg out for Clem to see. It was indeed fairly scrawny looking for a chicken egg. "In fact, when we first started getting eggs, they were boiled instead of scrambled. And I remember them being bigger then."

"Maybe the chickens don't feel well." Sarah moved to the next cage and searched inside. Seeing nothing she moved to the cage after that and carefully removed the egg inside. "Thanks for helping me," said Clem as she marked the chart.

"With what?"

"With the multiplying and dividing."

"Oh, you're welcome."

"It's weird doing school work again," said Clem. "I kinda liked it, sorta. Almost felt like things were normal for a little while."

"I liked the work okay. But…"

"Bridget?"

Sarah frowned. "Yeah. I don't understand why she hates me so much. I tried being nice, but it just makes her mad for some reason."

"She's just a—"

"Please don't say it again," pleaded Sarah.

"I was gonna say bully," said Clem.

"Oh."

"You should stand up for yourself."

"I just can't."

"You stood up for me when Bridget said I was stupid."

'Well that's different, you're special."

"I am?" asked Clem, not convinced she was particularly special.

"Yeah, you're really brave and cool," said Sarah. "I'm not. I'm not even like the other kids my age. Probably because I am a loser."

"I'm glad you're not the like the other kids your age."

"Really? You like that I'm a loser?" asked a dubious Sarah.

"I think they're the losers. You're really cool." Sarah smirked a little. "And you're not ugly either. You're really pretty."

"You're just saying that," said Sarah.

"No, I'm not." Clem noticed Sarah seemed a little embarrassed by this compliment. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

"Even though my face is all messed up?"

"You're still a cute little girl Clem." Sarah turned away from the cage and noticed that Clem was making a face. "Is something wrong?"

"You called me little."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I know you didn't. I'm just sick of being little. Today in school I felt so stupid. There was so much I didn't know."

"You're not stupid just because you don't know something. You said so yourself."

"I know, I know. It's just, there's all this stuff I don't know because I'm little, and there's all this new stuff you have to know because things are different, and it just feels like there's not enough time for me to learn all these important things. Like, I can't catch up."

"Well, maybe that's why we're going to school. So we can catch up."

"I hope so. The weird thing is last time I was in school, I felt the opposite. Like I already knew everything I was supposed to."

"You felt like you knew everything?"

"About the first grade I did. I had to do it twice."

"You flunked the first grade?"

"I didn't flunk," retorted a defensive Clementine. "It was almost summer, and we had to move. My mom said I could finish the first grade at my new school. But something went wrong and I couldn't go. And I couldn't do it in summer school either."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I asked my mom a couple of times. She just said that everyone running both schools were a bunch of idiots. She also said that even though I didn't do anything wrong, I'd have to start in the first grade at my new school after the summer. When I told her that wasn't fair, she told me that she was sorry, but life isn't always fair."

"That sucks."

"It wasn't so bad. Everything was really easy because I already did it before. All the other kids thought I was really smart. But I felt different from everyone. Since my birthday is right after school starts, I was older than a lot of kids. And since I had to do first grade twice, that made me even older. I was the only eight-year-old. Everyone else was seven or six. So I felt like I didn't fit in." Sarah removed an egg from the last cage and Clem marked the chart.

"That's all of them," said Sarah as she carefully set the basket down. "She was right. That didn't take long."

"Did you ever feel like you didn't belong in school?"

"I home schooled."

"So your dad taught you?"

"Sometimes. When he was around."

"And when he wasn't?"

"I would just read the textbooks and do the worksheets myself. When he got home he'd grade them."

"So you never went to school at all?"

"Well, I did, until the second grade…" Sarah trailed off.

"Why did you stop?" Sarah tensed up in response to Clem's question. "Did something bad happen?"

"Yeah…"

"What?"

"If I tell you, will you promise to never tell anyone else?"

"I won't tell anyone."

"Well, one day, I had to pee really bad. But I was afraid to ask my teacher. Since it was near the end of the day, I figured I could just hold it until the bell rang."

"But you couldn't?"

Sarah hung her head in shame. "The girl next to me noticed and yelled out 'Sarah peed her pants' as loud as she could. Then all the other kids started laughing and pointing at me. And then I started crying. And then one of them started yelling 'crybaby', and then they all started yelling 'crybaby' over and over again, and it just made me cry more and…" Sarah sat down, letting her head fall into her hands.

"I'm sorry Sarah."

"I don't even remember what happened after that. I just remember the next morning, my dad told me I wouldn't have to go school anymore. That was the worst day of my life. Or it used to be. Last night…" Sarah pulled her knees up to her chest.

"It was horrible," said Clem as she sat down right next to Sarah.

"Pete…" whispered Sarah. "That man… he shot him in the head. I… I never saw something so awful before." Sarah turned to Clem. "Have you?" Clem looked at Sarah, then weakly nodded in response.

"I saw a woman shoot another woman in the head, right in front of me." Sarah stared at Clem, shocked by what she said.

"Why?" asked a shaken Sarah

"I… I don't even know really," confessed Clem. "She just pulled out a gun and shot her right in front of everybody. She was so angry."

"She killed someone just because she was angry?" asked Sarah.

"Maybe. I think she was afraid to. Carley, the woman she shot, called her a 'scared little girl' right before she did it. And she looked really scared afterwards, when someone said we should leave her behind."

"Is that just what it's like now? People get mad or scared, and they just kill each other?" Clem thought back to how scared she was herself at the lodge, about how she shot Consuelo and hit the man in gray because she was scared, and how they tried to kill Clem because they were angry with her.

Looking at Sarah, Clem could see the fear welling up in her eyes, and yet she couldn't find it in herself to lie to the older girl, and tell her that everything was okay. Instead, Clem moved in closer and wrapped her arm around Sarah's.

"Not all people," answered Clem as she leaned her head against Sarah's shoulder.

"So, what happened to that woman?" asked Sarah. "Did she get left behind?"

"No," said Clem. "She left us behind." The sound of a squeaking wheel drew the girls' attention back to the entrance. Sarah collected the egg basket as Gertrude appeared at the entrance pushing a wheelbarrow.

"Sorry I took so long." Gertrude set the wheelbarrow down. "Hector was all scatter brained today." Sarah handed the eggs to Gertrude, who eyed the basket. "None broken. That's good. And do we have a tally?" Clementine handed Gertrude the clipboard, who studied it closely for a moment. "Good work girls."

"How come you have to know how many eggs each chicken lays?" asked Sarah.

"So we know when it's time to put one out to pasture," answered Gertrude.

"You mean, you set them free?"

"I mean I butcher them."

"Oh…" Sarah was a little put off by that revelation. "That's why we got to eat chicken sometimes." Clem's ears perked up with the suggestion she might actually get to eat meat again.

"Don't get all sentimental now, meat comes from animals. It was true then and it's true now. Probably one of the few things that didn't change with the rest of the world." Clem found her sudden interest in eating meat again wane with that comment, unable to push the memory of the Saint John's dinner out of her mind. "And we can't afford to be feeding chickens that don't feed us, especially not now when I can't get regular chicken feed anymore."

Gertrude pulled a couple of buckets off the wheelbarrow and set them in front of the girls. Looking inside Clem saw one bucket was full of some ground up brown and white substances, the other looked like it was diced up plant leaves.

"What are these?" asked Clem.

"It's what passes for feed these days," said Gertrude. "We don't have any fresh corn, so I've been experimenting with crushed pet foods, rice, plants from the greenhouse, any bugs we find, just whatever we have on hand. We're not the only ones making do with less these days," sighed Gertrude as she removed a bucket of water from the wheelbarrow.

"Hopefully, when spring gets here, we can build a coop outside where they can forage for food as well. Lauren will hopefully get some corn going and I can let my roosters out so we can have some pullets before next winter. Hopefully." Gertrude handed Clem and Sarah each a small shovel.

"So, we're going to feed the chickens now?" asked Clem.

"In a minute." Gertrude handed the girls each an empty bucket.

"What do we do with this?" asked Sarah.

"You fill them."

"With what?"

"With what they ate yesterday."


	36. Quitting Time

"So, you spent all afternoon shoveling chicken shit?" asked Mick.

"No, not all afternoon," answered Sarah. "We finished that pretty quickly."

"They use their poop for fertilizer," added Clementine. "We had to throw it in these big compost bins."

"Ugh, that smell," said Sarah.

"Then we fed them, gave them water, checked all the roach traps and fly paper around Shaffer's for any dead bugs, and then helped make feed for tomorrow," listed Clem.

"That was the hard part," said Sarah. "Gertrude is trying all these different combinations, so we had to keep sorting all these ingredients for her to mix into buckets. We had to ground up old dog food and shred all these leaves."

"What about the eggs?" asked Matt.

"We got them while Gertrude was getting the feed," said Sarah.

"She left you two alone?" asked Mick.

"Yeah, why?" asked Clem.

"It's just, we never get that kind of trust," said Mick.

"It's because they're girls," scoffed Matt.

"What does us being girls have to do with anything?" asked an annoyed Clem.

"Everyone's always nicer to girls than boys," asserted Matt. "You chicks get everything easier."

"Nicer? Look at our faces," demanded Clem. "Does it look like they've been nice to us?"

"Everyone away from the door!" Clementine looked over to see Maude frisking Adam before ushering him into the pen and locking the door.

"Look at his face," suggested Matt as Adam moved towards the nearest bed. "That's how nice people are to boys." Adam crawled under one of the beds and disappeared from sight. "Nobody feels sorry for him."

"I do," said Sarah.

"I do too," added Clem in a more defiant tone.

"Good for you. None of the adults here do," said Matt. "That Cookie guy didn't care that we were in the pen when we met him. He sees you two and it's some big tragedy. It's because you're girls and everyone is supposed to feel sorry for you."

"Maybe that's because we're younger than you," suggested Clem.

"By what exactly? Mick's only a few years older than her. You thought I was a kid when you saw me. You really think he'd care if we were younger?"

"Well, how did Cookie act when he met Adam?" asked Sarah.

"How would I know? I don't care what the chef thinks of the weird kid," said Matt.

"I'm pretty sure he was weirded out when he saw him eat though," added Mick.

"You know, a lot of things are harder for girls," argued Clementine.

"Like what?" asked Matt.

"Well, there's that one thing that only happens to girls," stated a nervous Sarah.

"What thing?" Matt's question just seemed to embarrass Sarah.

"Is this that thing you're going to tell me about when I get older?" Sarah nodded to Clementine.

"The secret thing only girls know about that makes things harder. Yeah right," scoffed Matt.

"Matt, give it a rest," urged Mick.

"No way, they got it easier," insisted Matt. "People don't expect girls to do anything."

"Yes they do. People are always telling us what to do and not listening to us. They wouldn't do that if we were boys," rebutted Clem.

"Bullshit. No one listens to us either, and we get pushed around all the time. Right Mick?"

"Matt, enough," said Mick in a louder voice.

"What do you think Adam meant when he said bad things happen to nice girls?" pondered Sarah.

"I like how all these things that make girls' lives harder is secret stuff no one talks about," noted Matt. "Probably because it's not real, otherwise it'd happen to boys too."

"Matt, why don't you shut up for a while?" snapped Mick.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Mick didn't answer Matt, leading to an awkward silence.

"Everyone away from the door!" Clem's eyes lit up as she saw Christa and Walter being ushered into the pen.

"Clementine," called Christa. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, are you?"

"Just tired," said Christa as she sat down on a bed.

"Me too," said a weary Walter.

"I can't believe they're making you work even though you're pregnant," professed a saddened Clementine.

"I can't believe they'd work a wounded nine-year-old girl," echoed an equally saddened Christa.

"Matt was just saying how much easier we have it because we're girls," informed a bitter Clem.

"Oh really?" Matt looked nervous as Christa turned towards him. "You see this?" Christa pointed to her stomach. "This is nine months of a girl's life being made harder. Something we have to do for every single person ever born, which is another thing we've got to look forward to, childbirth. You want to know what a cervix is? How bout—"

"Okay, I get it, stop. Yeesh." Matt inched away from Christa.

"Cervix?" asked Clem.

"Just part of where babies come from," smirked Christa. "God knows what these people are going to do to me when I go into labor," she remarked in a more weary tone.

"Knowing them, they'll probably keep working you, then they'll work your baby too," stated a bitter Mick.

"I really hope you're joking, but I gotta a feeling you're not," said Christa.

"Well surely they'll have moved you out of the pen by then," reasoned Walter. "Bill said that Byron man only spent two days here. So—"

"Byron got out because he was a soldier, or something, he knew a lot about guns," explained Mick. "He overhead that Pete guy bitching about his favorite revolver breaking at lunch and told him he could fix it. He didn't go back to the pen after that because he had something these people needed that they couldn't get from anyone else."

"That must be why I never came here before. Because my dad was a doctor," realized Sarah.

"You gonna tell me those assholes who like to rough up little girls all have some special skill?" asked a dubious Christa.

"Well that's the other way to get out of the pen," said Mick. "Prove you're loyal to Bill."

"That must be why I'm here now," concluded a despondent Sarah. "Because we weren't loyal."

"How does one go about proving their loyalty?" asked Walter.

"Line up for supper!" Everyone watched as Edmund pushed his cart towards the door.

"That guy got out for ratting on other people in the pen," whispered Mick. "And all he got was a delivery job out of it. God only knows what those assholes with the guns have to do."

Maude opened the gate, allowing Edmund to push his cart in. Clem got her cup of water and a bowl from Edmund. Supper was some rice with lettuce and radish slices in it. Not exactly as appetizing as breakfast and lunch, but still much better than what Clem had become accustomed to in recent months.

"Are you Clementine?" asked Edmund in a quiet voice as Clem returned her bowl and cup.

"Um, yeah," answered a nervous Clem.

"Bill said to give you this." Clem watched as Edmund removed a pink backpack from his cart.

"See, girls get everything," remarked Matt. "They never gave us our stuff back." Clementine ignored Matt's remark and immediately sat down to check the pack's contents. Not surprisingly her gun was missing but, much to Clem's disappointment, so was her radio and her two books. The only things left were three pieces of paper.

Clem looked through her drawings again, first of Kenny, Katjaa and Duck, then Lee, then she looked at Sarah's note again. Clem set the note down and turned to her friend, who was staring in Edmund's direction, an anxious look on her face.

"What's wrong?" Sarah didn't answer, she just kept watching Edmund as he pushed his cart towards the door. "Sarah?"

"He didn't come back," said a choked up Sarah as Maude latched the gate behind Edmund.

"You mean, your dad?"

"He's never coming back." Sarah rolled onto her bed. "What am I going to do?" whimpered Sarah as she curled up into a fetal position.

"Sarah," spoke Christa in a concerned voice. "I know this might sound horrible, but if your father doesn't come back, and he may still, but if he doesn't, it's not the end of the world. You'd still be alive, and we'd help you."

"I… I couldn't go on without him," confessed a depressed Sarah.

"Yes you could," encouraged Clem. "I mean, I hope you don't have to, but if you had to, you could." Clem's heart sank as she looked at a broken Sarah. "I… I had to."

"You've still got your mom." Clem covered her face, trying her best not to cry.

"Sarah, there's something you should know about me and Clementine." Christa put her arm around Clem. "I'm—"

"Away from the door!" Everyone looked to the gate. Between the fence and Maude standing in the way, it was hard to see who was coming. Sarah sat up and watched the door, eagerly awaiting whoever was approaching.

"Nick?" Everyone watched as the haggard young man barely managed to limp into the pen before collapsing onto the ground. Walter and Christa helped Nick into the nearest bed while Sarah turned back to the door. She watched in anticipation as someone else stumbled through the entrance.

"Dad!" Carlos fell to his knees after Maude shoved him into the pen. Sarah rushed to him as Maude latched the gate. "Dad?" Carlos remained on his knees, gasping for breath. "Dad, get up," begged a teary Sarah. "Please?"

Carlos looked up at his daughter. "Sarah?" Carlos looked at Sarah, as if he didn't recognize her, then suddenly threw his arms around his daughter. "Sarah! Thank God!" He croaked in a weak voice. "Thank God you're okay."

"Dad, what happened? What did they do to you?" bawled Sarah as she clung to her father as tightly as she could.

"I'm okay sweetheart. I'm okay now that you're here," assured Carlos as tears ran down his face. "I'm just very tired."

"Then you should rest, right now," insisted Sarah as she guided Carlos to the nearest bed.

"I love you Sarah," croaked an emotional Carlos.

"I love you too Dad." Clem watched as Sarah helped Carlos into bed, even helping to take his shoes off, and found herself envious of Sarah being reunited with her father.

"Maude, come back," called Hector's voice over the radio.

"Maude here, go head."

"You can take off. Everyone's back at the pen."

"Copy that."

"Wait, not everyone's here." Walter moved to the fence. "Where's Felicity?"

"She's not coming." Maude reached for the lantern.

"Why not?"

"Lights out." Maude switched the lantern off and walked away, leaving Walter and the others in the dark. Walter sat down on the bed, a devastated look on his face.

"Sorry man, but she's gone," explained Mick with a hint of sympathy. "Like I said, business as usual."

Looking around in the dark, Clem could see Sarah closely intertwined with Carlos, clutching him lovingly as she pulled the covers over herself and her weary father. Looking away, Clem saw Christa sitting down on a bed.

"Christa?" said Clem as she approached the woman. "Can… can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"You scared sweetie?" asked Christa.

"No. I'm just… kinda lonely," admitted Clem.

"Oh, Clem. Of course you can." Christa gestured for Clem to come closer. "As long as you're okay with sharing a bed with someone as big as me."

"It's fine," assured Clem as she climbed into bed. "I'm little, so I don't need much space."


	37. The Rest of Your Life

"I'm sorry Clementine," said Christa as Clem settled next to her. "I'm sorry I haven't been there for you lately."

"It's not your fault," said Clem. "They won't let us stay together during the day."

"No, I mean before this. Ever since Omid died I just haven't been good to you. No matter how bad things get, it's no excuse for treating you like that."

"It's okay," assured Clem.

"No it's not," insisted Christa. "I just want you to know, I'm here for you now though. For as much as I can be in this place."

"Why?" asked a weary Clem.

"What?" asked Christa, confused by Clem's question.

"Why?" repeated Clem. "Why are you taking care of me?"

"What? I told you. Lee wanted me and Omid to take care of you. I know he's gone but—"

"If Lee hadn't asked you, would you still take care of me?"

"Of course I would," assured a guilt-ridden Christa. "Clem, I'm so sorry about how I've acted. I—"

"I'm not mad at you Christa."

"Then, what?"

"I'm just wondering. Why do you want to help me? What makes me so special?"

"Clementine," spoke a heartbroken Christa. "How could you even think you're not worth caring for?"

"Because I'm not," answered Clem in a grim tone. "Not any more than anyone else. Probably less actually. I don't know a whole lot, and I can't do a lot either. Wouldn't it be better if Lee was here, instead of me?"

"No, Clem, you're such a good person. You're a brave, smart, wonderful girl, and I wouldn't trade you for anything."

"Why not? Lee was brave. Braver than me. He was smarter too. And even if he did some bad things, he was a good person too. If he was here right now, he could do a lot more than me. Maybe you would have never been caught if he was here instead of me."

"Clementine, the reason you're here is because that's what Lee wanted. That's why he came after you."

"He shouldn't have."

"Clementine," scolded Christa. "Why would you even say that?"

"Because he shouldn't have," repeated an aggravated Clem. "What makes my life more important than his? Because I'm a kid? Kids aren't important. Not anymore."

"You really think that?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"Yeah, I do," admitted Clem.

"Then why do you keep helping Sarah?"

"What?"

"She's a kid. And from the sounds of things you've helped her a lot."

"Well… that's… that's different."

"How?"

"She's… she's not a kid. She's thirteen. That makes her a teenager."

"I see. So if Sarah was your age, you wouldn't help her."

"No, I'd still help Sarah if she was nine."

"Why? She'd be a kid and wouldn't be important."

"I don't care if she's important. I like her. She's nice to me. She listens to me, and helps me, and makes me feel better—" Clem felt Christa's hand slide up her arm and to her face, tenderly caressing Clem's cheek.

"Sounds like someone I know," smiled Christa.

"So, I'm important to you," concluded Clem. "It doesn't mean kids are important."

"Children are very important Clem. They always have been."

"Why?"

"Because children mean a future Clementine. I know that sounds cliché, but it's true. If people stopped taking care of children, eventually there'd be no people at all, and then it really would be the end of the world. Things are bad now, but they won't always be, and that's when the world will need people like you."

"Like me?"

"Good kids who grew up to be good people who will help make things better."

"You really think I'd make a difference?"

"Of course," assured Christa. "You've already made a big difference in my life. You stood up to me and stopped me from making a mistake back when I wanted to leave the others. You did it way back in Crawford when I wanted to leave Ben, another kid who needed help. And you did it again at the lodge, when I was thinking about shooting Carlos."

"Would you really have shot him right in front of Sarah?" asked a concerned Clem.

"I won't lie Clem, I really wanted to, and seeing Sarah didn't do much to change that. I actually wanted to start yelling about everything Carlos had done to us, make her realize what an awful man he was before I killed him," confessed an ashamed Christa.

"Then you spoke up, and so did Walter, made me realize just how crazy I was acting. You risked your life trying to find Nick and Matthew. You freed yourself when you were hurt. You've done so much and you're still just a girl. So never think for a moment you're not important. You're a wonderful girl who's going to grow up to be a great woman someday."

"What if I don't grow up?"

"Clementine…"

"What if it's like Mick said, and this is as good as it's going to get? What if kids just don't get to grow up anymore?"

"I don't think this is as good as it's going to get."

"But what if it is?" asked Clem. "If you knew things would never get better, and kids don't get to grow up anymore, would you still take care of me?"

"Yes Clem," answered Christa without hesitation.

"Even if you knew I wouldn't live long enough to be a grown-up?"

"I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you do grow up."

"Even though it could be impossible?"

"I'd rather die trying to protect you, then live the rest of my life without you."

"Really?" asked Clem, surprised by the emotion in Christa's voice.

"Yes, really." Christa turned to look Clem in the eye, guilt hanging on her face. "Clementine, I want to tell you something."

"Okay."

"This is something I never told Omid."

"What?"

"When we were in Savannah, trying to find you, we got trapped in the attic of that house we were staying in," explained Christa. "While Omid was working on getting us out, Kenny was passing around a bottle of whiskey he found, and he offered it to me, not knowing I was pregnant."

"Why can't you drink when you're pregnant?"

"Because drinking alcohol can hurt a baby. But I took that bottle anyway."

"Why? Did you, want, to hurt your baby?"

"I wanted to kill it Clem," admitted an ashamed Christa.

"Why?" asked a surprised Clementine.

"Because I was thinking the same thing you were talking about now. That there was no way I could raise a child in a world as horrible as this."

"Oh…" Clementine thought about everything she just said, not even thinking about how it applied to Christa's baby as well.

"You want to know what changed my mind?"

"What?"

"You did."

"Me?"

"Yes Clem. Seeing you, sitting by that tree, knowing that against all odds, you escaped Savannah, and were still alive, made me realize just how selfish I was. That I would rather kill Omid and I's child before it was even born, just because it might die later. After we found you, I told myself, I wouldn't do that again. That I wouldn't just give up on the world before it was over." Clem looked at Christa, noting the regret in her eyes.

"Then I won't either," promised Clementine. "And I'm sorry if it sounded like I was just now."

"It's okay Clem. Like I said, I've had my own doubts. It's not easy to—oh!"

"What?"

"The baby's kicking."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you wanna feel it?"

"Sure." Christa pulled her shirt up, allowing Clem to place her hand on the woman's belly.

"I… I really can feel it moving." Clem could feel the slight bumps coming from inside Christa's stomach and found herself almost giddy as she awaited another kick.

"God I hope it's healthy. I'm still worried I gave it birth defects from drinking that stuff back in Savannah. Not to mention none of us have been eating all that healthy lately."

"It feels healthy," commented Clem as she placed both hands on Christa's stomach. "I wonder what will happen when it comes out."

"I don't know Clem, this really doesn't strike me as a good place to raise children," said Christa. "Hopefully someone in here cares about a baby other than us."

"I'll help you," promised Clem.

"I know you will Clem," smiled Christa. "For now, let's just get some sleep. It's been a really long day."

"Actually, can I ask you one last thing?"

"What is it?"

"I think I heard another new swear word today, but I'm not sure."

"Ugh, what that horrible woman say this time?"

"It wasn't Consuelo. If you don't want me to say it—"

"Just say it Clem."

"Spooning."

"Where'd you hear that?" asked an amused Christa.

"Mick said Sarah and I were doing that this morning."

"Sounds like he was just messing with you."

"So it is a swear word?"

"No, it's not a swear Clem."

"Well, what is it then?"

"Spooning is just when you grab onto someone you care about while they're sleeping."

"Like I'm doing?" Christa looked down at Clem, clinging to her belly.

"Yeah, in a sense. You could maybe say that."

"I like it."


	38. The Prisoner's Dilemma

"So, that's probably enough about the Roman Empire for today," concluded Gene as he started erasing the board.

"Ugh, why do we have to keep learning this stuff?" whined Bridget. "What does it matter what happened a thousand years ago?"

"Ancient Rome was the largest city of its time and part of an empire that represented what was the modern world, and it fell. Yet mankind marched on. I just thought I'd help give you kids some perspective when you start thinking this is the end of the world. Just because we're experiencing a fall of our own does not mean this is an end."

"That Caesar guy sounded kinda cool," said Matt. "Just rolling into Rome and taking over the place."

"In addition to being 'cool', I hoped Caesar would demonstrate just how big an impact a single person can have on history." Gene checked his watch. "We've got a bit of time left before your survival lesson for today, so I've got a little game we can play." Gene drew a line down the middle of the whiteboard, then drew a stick figure on each side.

"You and one other person are taken prisoner, each accused of a crime. You're both separated from the other, unable to communicate, when you're approached by your captors.

"They tell you if you say the other person committed the crime, you can go free, but that person will get five years in prison; unless the other prisoner says you did it as well, then you both receive three years. However, if neither of you confess, you'd each receive only one year. But if you don't confess, and the other prisoner does, you'll receive five years in prison."

Gene drew out the different outcomes with a chart, demonstrating how being betrayed had the harshest penalty but betraying someone presents the best outcome. "So, what do you do?"

"Say the other guy did it, duh," answered Bridget.

"Yeah, no-brainer. Right Mick?" Matt looked to Mick, who still seemed to be pondering the question. "You gotta think about this? The answer is obvious."

"Well not really, if the other guy talks too you're getting three years," noted Mick.

"Yeah, and if you don't talk, you could get five," reminded Matt.

"That's true," conceded Mick. "I'd talk."

"Sarah?" asked Gene.

"I… I don't think I could do it," said Sarah.

"That's because you're a wuss," said Bridget.

"You'd really risk five years, just for the chance to get only one?" asked Gene.

"It's not that, it's just, if I said the other person did it, and they didn't say I did it, they'd be stuck in prison for five years because of what I did," rationalized Sarah. "And I'd feel terrible if that happened because of me."

"God you suck," said Bridget.

"Well, that's your choice to make. But I doubt the other person would be as worried about you." Gene turned to Clementine. "What's your answer?" Clem felt torn. Her first instinct was to say she'd tell, thinking she couldn't trust a stranger to help her. But after hearing what Sarah said, she realized she'd be acting just like the kind of person she was afraid of. "Clementine?"

"I wouldn't tell," answered Clementine confidently.

"Hope you like taking it up the ass for five years," remarked Bridget.

"Bridget, enough." Gene looked at Clem. "You'd really risk so much of your life on the word of someone you may not even know?"

Clementine turned to Sarah. "Yeah, I would. And if they did the same for me, not only would it not be as long, I'd know I could trust them too."

"Seems like an awful risk to me." Gene looked at Adam, who was staring off into space again. "Adam, what would you do if someone asked you to accuse someone else of a crime in exchange for your freedom?"

"Freedom?" Adam seemed to grow anxious upon hearing that word.

"Just, what would you do if I said you could have what you want, but you had to tell me what someone else did?" asked Gene.

"I… I tell you what I know," answered Adam in a quiet voice.

"Looks like you two girls are in the minority," Gene said to Clem and Sarah. "Sure you wouldn't want to change your answer?"

"No," answered Clem, annoyed at Gene's suggestion.

"I don't think I want to either," said Sarah. "Walter said we all do better when we're willing to help each other."

"Who's Walter?" asked Gene.

"He's this smart nice man who helped us."

"Well that's good, but is Walter a teacher?"

"Yes," answered Clem.

"He is?"

"Yeah, he told me yesterday morning that he used to be a teacher," explained Clem.

"So, this Walter is with you in the pen?" asked Gene.

"Yeah, why?" said Clem.

"He just sounds like the kind of person I'd like to meet."

The doors swung open and Maude burst into the room."It's eleven," she announced. "The children are scheduled for their shooting lesson now."

"Shooting lesson?" asked a nervous Sarah.

"Finally, we get to do something good," said Bridget.

"Everyone fall in line," ordered Maude. "We've got a walk ahead of us." Clem and the others followed Maude. Clem was surprised to see they were moving back towards the front gate. A man in a yellow shirt Clem didn't recognize helped Maude slide barricades out of place on the inner gate. As they worked, Clem looked over at the odd arrangement of large plastic barrels surrounding a few short cargo containers.

A metal gutter ran around the edge of each of the containers and several spouts ran down to each individual barrel. Off in the distance, Clem could see Nick and George moving two of the barrels with hand trucks and realized the gutters must collect water when it rains.

"Everyone move up." Stepping into the small walled in holding area, Clem watched as Maude and the man in yellow opened the outer gate, noting that none of the barricades had actual locks like the door in the warehouse. You just had to move them out of place. But watching Maude struggle with the last barricade made Clem realize they must be really heavy.

Stepping outside of Shaffer's felt strange. Clem had only been there two days and already the idea of leaving felt impossible. As they moved across the road Clem looked back, finding an intimidating sight. The long walls made entirely out of thick metal boxes topped with a fence that was topped with razor-sharp wire made Clementine realize how unlikely escape truly was. And seeing the man in yellow close the gate didn't make her feel any better.

Maude guided the group to a small two story building across the road. A large ladder had been pushed up against the side of the structure, which Maude instructed everyone to climb. Reaching the rooftop, Clem looked around for anything of note, but found nothing but an empty roof.

"So, when do we get to shoot something?" Bridget asked Maude as she reached the top of the roof.

"Your instructor will be here shortly," answered Maude as she came up the ladder.

"Why isn't he here now?" A deafening gun shot rang out across the area, causing everyone except Maude to duck. Everyone looked around frantically for the source of the gunshot, but didn't see anything. They listened closely as they heard someone climbing up the ladder. Clem watched as Byron emerged onto the roof, a pair of rifles on his back.

"I'm Byron Waters, and I'll be your firearms instructor for the day." Sarah moved in close to Clem, grabbing the younger girl's hand.

"Isn't that the man who aimed a gun at you?" whispered Clem.

"He's the one who shot Pete," whispered Sarah.


	39. Just a Thing

"What you just heard was your first lesson," dictated Byron. "Guns are loud. And as I'm sure you've already learned, loud noises draw zombies. So that's why we're up here on a roof where they can't reach us and where we won't draw them towards the yard."

"All right, we finally get to do something good," said Bridget. "I get to go first, right?"

"Before we get started, we're going to review the tenets of gun safety," stated Byron. "Maybe some of you think you already know them, maybe you actually do. I know a few of you have at least held guns before." Clem couldn't help notice that Byron was looking at her and Sarah.

"Regardless of your prior experience, these rules are important enough to bear repeating. And if you have questions about any of them, ask me now, because it's imperative you understand these rules before handling a gun.

"Rule number one, the gun is always loaded, always. So anytime you're holding a gun, you're to assume it's loaded because guns don't kill people, people kill people, which means if you pull a trigger on what you thought was an unloaded gun, and someone dies, you killed them, not the gun."

"What if we're shooting at creeps and we run out of bullets? Should we just keep pulling the trigger because the gun is always loaded?" asked Matt in a derisive tone.

"In your specific case, yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Bridget laughed as Matt crossed his arms.

"Rule two, never point a gun at something you don't intend to kill. Ever," dictated Byron.

"So if I aim at a tree, it's because I'm going to kill it?" mocked Matt.

"Do you have any moral reservations about killing a tree?" asked Byron.

"Uhh—"

"What about if you just wanted to scare someone?" asked Sarah in an uneasy voice. "But you didn't actually want to shoot them?"

"You don't point guns at something you're not willing to kill," repeated Byron in a stern tone, which caused Sarah to hang her head in shame. "Even if you don't actually shoot your target, you are threatening them with lethal force, and as such you shouldn't point a gun at someone unless you're also willing to shoot them.

"This is not just for their safety, but your own as well, because someone watching you point a gun at someone else will likely not consider the possibility that you're simply trying to scare them." Clementine thought back to Omid's death, and how she aimed her gun at Nick in anger after he lowered his, feeling ashamed of herself.

"Yeah, what about shooting people in the legs, and stuff like that?" asked Mick. "I mean, you don't always have to kill them."

"There is no safe place to shoot someone," explained Byron. "Your arms and legs contain major arteries, and bones which can fragment when shot, which, potentially lethal in itself, is made worse by the fact that we don't have access to hospitals anymore."

"But not everyone who gets shot dies," argued Bridget. "What if you just wing someone?"

"I can personally attest to the fact that yes, people can survive gunshots, sometimes to even normally fatal areas. I'm also confident in saying you will not know if a shot will be fatal before you pull the trigger, especially if you're involved in a life or death situation. So, with that in mind, if you're going to aim a gun at a person, you also must be willing to possibility do what?"

"Kill them," mumbled Adam in a quiet voice.

"I want to hear it from the rest of you," prodded Byron. "If you aim a gun at someone, it's because you're willing to do what?"

"Kill them," said Clem in weary voice along with everyone else.

"Now that we're clear on rule two, let's move onto rule three. Be sure of your target and what's behind it. Bullets penetrate. Keep that in mind if you shoot a zombie when your friend is right behind it.

"Rule four, finger stays off the trigger until you have your target and you're ready to fire. Now, any questions before we get started?" Sarah raised her hand. "Yes?"

"Someone told me you shouldn't be afraid of a gun because it's just a thing," said Sarah. "Do you know what that means?"

"I assume your friend was just telling you not to fear guns because they're just objects and can't hurt you by themselves," explained Byron. "However, do respect them and the power they represent. When you're holding a gun, you're entirely responsible for what happens with it. Anyone else?"

Clem raised her hand. "Why does squeezing the trigger help?" she asked.

"Probably because it's helping you to make a smooth controlled motion, which is necessary to maintaining your aim. You jerk the trigger and you're likely to miss your shot because you probably jerked the rest of the gun as well. Anyone else?"

"What are we shooting?" asked Bridget.

"I set up some dummies below for you to practice with." Byron looked at Bridget. "Gene said we'd start with the oldest first and work our way down to the youngest. So Bridget, here's your chance to set a good example." Bridget walked over to the edge of the rooftop as Byron removed one of the rifles from his back.

Clem inched closer to the edge of the roof herself, along with everyone else. She looked down and saw a crude dummy made out of a couple of intersecting posts about fifty feet away. It had a shirt on and a paint bucket for its head.

"You're all getting three shots each and no more. Don't be afraid to ask questions, and above all else—" Bridget grabbed the rifle, which Byron refused to let go of.

"You don't do anything without my say first." Byron glared angrily at Bridget until she let go of the rifle. "You have any previous shooting experience?"

"Yeah, I used to shoot squirrels on my mom's farm." Byron removed the rifle's magazine, loaded three bullets into it from his vest pocket, loaded the magazine into the rifle and cocked it. "Remember, respect it." Byron handed the rifle to Bridget, who took aim at the dummy. "You have your target?"

"Yeah."

"Whenever you're ready." Bridget tried to pull the trigger, but it wouldn't move.

"What the?" Bridget examined the rifle. "The safety's on."

"Of course it is. Always be mindful of the safety," said Byron to the rest of the class. "You should have checked it before you took aim." Bridget made a face as she clicked the safety off and took aim again. "When you're ready." Bridget fired, striking the paint can head.

"Headshot, good," complimented Byron. "Whenever you're ready." Bridget fired another shot and hit the paint can head again. "Another head shot. Let's try something more challenging." Byron motioned to Bridget to return the rifle. He removed the other rifle from his back. This was one was a good deal larger and had a scope mounted on it. Byron loaded a single round into the scoped rifle and handed it to Bridget.

"About a hundred yards out, near the road. See it?" Clem looked herself and spotted what looked like another dummy off in the distance.

"Yeah." Bridget braced the rifle against her shoulder and looked through the scope while Byron reached for his binoculars. "When you're ready." Bridget held the rifle tightly, a tense look on her face, then after a brief pause, fired. "Miss."

"I had it," insisted Bridget. "The scope must be off." Byron took the rifle back and loaded another round. "I get to try again, right?"

"No." Byron cocked the rifle. "But I'll double check to make sure the scope is still sighted correctly." Byron handed his binoculars to Bridget.

"Your shot was a little to the right. If the scope's off, so should mine." Byron took aim. "Ready?" Bridget hastily raised the binoculars.

"Yeah. I'm—"

Byron fired. "Direct hit. Scope's fine." Byron hosted the scoped rifle onto his back. "Next oldest is up." Mick approached Byron while he loaded the other rifle. "Any previous experience?"

"I shot creeps before I got stuck here," answered Mick as he took the rifle.

"All right, aim for the head and we'll go from there." Mick took aim and clicked the safety off. "When you're ready." Mick fired. "Miss." Byron gently pried Mick's finger off the trigger. "Use the end of your trigger finger, don't grasp it like you're trying to hold onto it for dear life."

Mick adjusted his grip. "Aim for the center of the chest this time. When you're ready." Mick fired. "Hit. Relax your shoulders a little and aim for the head this time. When you're ready." Mick fired again. "Hit. Good. Next." Mick handed the rifle back to Byron, who immediately reloaded it. Matt approached Byron next.

"Any experience?"

"Yeah, I killed creeps too."

Byron eyed the short teenager. "All right, with your height—"

"Wait, what does my height have to do with this?" snapped Matt.

"You've got shorter arms than them, it'd be easier—"

"I don't need a handicap."

"You didn't even—"

"There a problem Byron?" Everyone looked over to see Bill coming up the ladder, carrying something under his arm.

"Bill, what are you doing here?" asked Byron.

"Heard the shots, thought I'd see how Gene's kids were coming along," commented Bill as he set up an armchair beside Byron and Matt. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

"You missed me kicking ass," commented Bridget.

"Well I'm sure I'll get plenty more chances to see you in action when you're part of the crew." A smug smile formed on Bridget's face in response to Bill's approval. "Who are we up to now?"

"I'm trying to tell Matt here that since he has short arms, he'd be better off firing from prone," explained Byron.

"And I said I don't need a handicap," insisted Matt.

"Why not let the boy try it his way?" suggested Bill as he sat down. "They're his shots after all."

"All right," shrugged Byron as Matt took aim. "When you're ready." Matt tried to pull the trigger but it didn't move. "Mind the safety." Matt hastily clicked the safety off and fired.

"Miss. Were you aiming at the head or the torso?" asked Byron.

"The head," answered Matt.

"Aim at the body this time. And try to relax your muscles, you're tensing up." Matt fired again. "Another miss, are you still aiming at the head?" asked an annoyed Byron.

"Yeah, because I'm going to hit it," insisted Matt.

"I just told you—"

"Let him try for it," suggested Bill in a casual voice. "See what happens."

Byron sighed and turned back to Matt. "Take your time." Byron said slowly. "Line up your shot, steady your aim, then squeeze the trigger. Pulling it harder won't make you shoot better." Matt took aim. "Be patient. Now, when you're ready." Matt aimed at the dummy for a few seconds then fired.

"Hit. Barely." Byron took the rifle back. "Who's next?"

"I think Sarah here is next," commented Bill. Sarah moved towards Byron, fearful of the man.

"Other than that business with George, you ever hold a gun before?" asked Byron.

"I've held one a couple of other times and I know you're supposed to line up the things to aim, but I've never shot one," informed Sarah.

"All right, well you're going to shoot one now." Byron removed something from his belt. "Seeing as you're inexperienced, you'll shoot from prone, and we'll use a bipod." Byron attached a device to the end of the rifle that it gave it a pair of short metal legs.

"Sarah has to use training wheels," mocked Bridget.

"Shooting from prone is the most basic and stable of shooting positions, and therefore useful to an experienced marksman as well," explained Byron as he set the rifle down on the roof. "If you had thought to use it you may have made your last shot, and Matt probably wouldn't have missed his first two."

"It was the scope," insisted Bridget.

"No it wasn't." Byron stood up. "All right, everyone pay attention. Here's some easy to remember tips to get in proper prone position." Byron turned to Sarah. "Are you right or left-handed?"

"Right."

"All right, line up the right side of your body with the rifle," instructed Byron. "Use your right foot. Make sure it's even with both the direction the rifle is facing and your right shoulder." Sarah took a couple of small steps, trying to orient herself.

"Like this?" she asked.

"Now drop down to your stomach, like you're about to do a push-up." Sarah lay down as instructed. "Move yourself towards the rifle. Don't pull it to you, try to move up until your shoulder connects with the stock." Sarah slid forward a bit until she made contact with the rifle. "All right, spread your legs apart as far as you can."

"I like this part," smirked Mick.

"Stop talking and start listening," instructed Byron.

"You heard your instructor. Be quiet," emphasized Maude in a louder voice.

"All right." Byron turned back to Sarah, who appeared nervous. "Like I said, move your legs apart, then turn your feet out so your ankles are flat on the ground. This will help steady your aim." Sarah reluctantly did as instructed. "Now grip the rifle." Sarah put her hands around the gun.

"Take the safety off and line up your sights." Sarah located the safety and switched it off and then looked down the sights. "Now, when you're ready." Sarah fired immediately after Byron said ready, yelping in response to the gun going off. "Easy. Easy." Byron put his hand on Sarah's shoulder as she tried to stand up. "Just relax, breathe normally."

"I'm sorry," apologized a jittery Sarah.

"Just stay calm. Like I told you, don't be afraid of it. It can't hurt you. You're the one in control," assured Byron in a calming voice. "Now, just lie down and try again." Sarah slowly took her position behind the rifle.

"You listen to Byron now Sarah," instructed Bill in a friendly voice. "Kid knows everything there's to know about guns."

"Don't rush this time. When I say,'when you're ready, that means when you're actually ready," instructed Byron. "After I say that, you take as long as you need. Just relax."

"I'll try," answered a nervous Sarah.

"Don't fire until you are. Aim for the torso." Sarah aimed at the dummy. "When you're ready." Clem watched closely as Sarah tried to steady the rifle. Her hands were shaking, but gradually they seemed to stop moving. A short wait after that, Sarah fired.

"Hit," announced Byron.

"I hit it?" asked Sarah, sounding unsure.

"Yeah, aim for the head this time." Sarah gripped the rifle again. "Now, don't hold your breath this time," instructed Byron.

"I'm sorry. It's just—"

"You were trying to steady your aim, but that's not a good way to do it. What you want to do is breathe normally and try to fire between breaths."

"Between breaths?" asked Sarah.

"There's a little moment between when you breathe out and breathe back in. Normally you don't notice because it's involuntary, but if you think about it, you can hold that moment and slow your heart rate a little for a second," explained Byron. "Try it right now. Breathe normally, and as you breathe out, stop before you breathe back in." Clem watched Sarah closely. She breathed in and out several times, then suddenly grew very still after exhaling.

"You think you got it?" asked Byron.

"I think so," said Sarah in an unusually calm voice. "Is that what you do when you shoot?"

"Yeah, it works for me, least when I have the option. A life and death situation doesn't always allow you time to use proper technique," admitted Byron. "But anything you can do makes a difference. So, aim for the head and fire when ready." Sarah took aim and fired a few seconds later.

"Hit. Good." Byron took the rifle and reloaded it.

"I did it," realized Sarah as she stood up, surprised by her success.

"I always told your daddy you could handle a gun," complimented Bill. "I wanted you to learn how to use one a long time ago, but he wouldn't have it."

"Why not?" asked Sarah as she moved towards Bill.

"Well, I figured that's between you and him," answered Bill. "Although, he always gave me the impression you didn't want to learn how to shoot."

"He just told me not to touch guns," said Sarah. "I don't think he ever even asked me if I wanted to learn how to use one."

"Well, I'm sure he's got his reasons," assured Bill. "Probably hard for him to accept that kids have to learn these things now, but that's just how it is these days." Bill looked over at Adam. "Speaking of which, I think you're up son." Adam walked over to where Byron was standing. Clem couldn't help noticing he didn't have a bored look on his face today, but a nervous one.

"You have any prior experience with guns?"

Adam looked at the rifle, seemingly frightened by it. "Not… not holding them," he answered in an uneasy voice.

"Okay, well, just take it easy," instructed Byron in a calm voice as he examined the boy. "You right or left handed?"

"Right," answered Adam.

"But you're going to have to aim with your left eye, that'll make things more difficult." Byron noticed the missing pinky and ring finger on Adam's right hand. "And you're probably going to have trouble gripping it too." Byron looked at the nervous boy, then over to Bill. "I really don't think he wants to do this."

"Just let him try it once," suggested Bill. "He's a tough kid, he could handle shooting a gun."

Byron turned back to Adam. "All right, just position yourself behind the rifle, like Sarah did." Adam very slowly lay down and moved towards rifle. "All right, just aim at the torso." Adam started breathing harder as he took hold of the gun. "Take the safety off." Adam looked at the safety for a moment before switching it off. "Now when you're—"

Adam closed his eyes and quickly pulled the trigger. The shot caused Adam to drop the rifle, which Byron quickly secured. Adam scampered backwards until he bumped into Bill's chair. Byron looked at the scarred boy, nervously jerking his head about, looking for some unseen threat.

"Okay, it's not safe for him or us to have him shoot anymore," informed Byron in a concerned tone.

"Everyone was supposed to shoot three times," reminded Maude. "He—"

"I guess it's just not his thing," said Bill in a casual manner. "Don't sweat it son. You can't be good at everything son." Adam looked at Bill and seemed to calm down. "We can let him sit this one out," Bill told Maude.

"If that's what you want, sir," conceded Maude.

"I want to see the littlest one try her luck." Clem couldn't help being annoyed at Bill calling her 'the littlest.'

"All right." Byron loaded another round into the rifle and set it back on the roof. "Now I know you've at least fired a gun, but—"

"Just let the girl shoot Byron," insisted Bill. "I got a feeling she knows what she's doing. If not, she should have been paying attention."

"Okay, get in position." Clem lined herself up with the rifle like Byron said earlier and lay down, moving up and bracing the rifle against her shoulder like she saw Sarah do. "Pick your target, fire when ready." Clem gripped the rifle carefully, flicked the safety off, lined up her sights with the dummy's paint can head, then squeezed the trigger.

"Headshot," confirmed Byron. "Next shot when you're ready." Clem's sights were still on the head so she just squeezed the trigger again.

"Another hit." Byron turned to Clem. "Want to try the distant target?"

"Go head and set her up Byron," instructed Bill. "Pretty obvious she's already got this one down." Byron removed the remaining round from the rifle, then removed the scoped rifle from his back.

"It'll be a minute, I gotta swap the bipod," explained Byron.

"Let her try it without," suggested Bill.

"It's kinda of a heavy gun for someone her size, even prone."

Clem grimaced upon hearing the word size. "I'll try it without," she insisted.

"See, she likes a challenge."

Byron sighed and set the scoped rifle in front of Clem. "Without the bipod you're going to need to bend your elbows," instructed Byron as Clem tried to get a grip on the bigger rifle. "You've got short arms so you need to grip the stock close to the trigger." Trying to aim the rifle, Clem immediately regretted turning down the bipod. Byron helped position her arms more efficiently, but even then the weight of the rifle was making it difficult for Clem to handle.

"Now, you see your target?" Clem found it hard to know where she was looking due to the incredibly narrow field of view the scope provided. She suddenly understood why Nick wanted her to be his spotter back at the lodge. Byron eventually guided the barrel in a certain direction and Clem could see the distant dummy near the road. "How bout now?"

"Yeah, I see it," confirmed Clem as she tried to line up the crosshairs.

"Keep your shoulder braced against the stock," reminded Byron as he grabbed his binoculars. "When you're ready." Clem took the safety off and then tried to keep the crosshairs lined up with the dummy's head. As she tried to squeeze the trigger, she found it much harder to pull than the other rifle, forcing her to grip it as hard as she could. The rifle fired, giving Clem what felt like a kick to her shoulder.

"Body hit." Clem was disappointed to hear she missed the head. "All right, that's everyone. And just in time, I see our first zombie of the day moving this way." Clem looked through the scope, trying to spot the walker.

"You still calling them zombies?" chuckled Bill.

"They're corpses that eat people," reminded Byron. "I don't get everyone's cutesy names for dancing around the obvious." Byron went to retrieve the rifle, but noticed Clem was still looking through the scope.

"Looks like she's already on top of it," noted Bill. "Why don't you give her another shot? See if she can get it." Byron looked at Bill, who just nodded at him. Byron removed another bullet from his vest and took the rifle from Clem. He loaded and cocked the weapon, then set it front of the girl.

"Scope is sighted for that dummy," informed Byron. "So wait for the zombie to reach about the same distance before firing." Everyone moved closer to the edge of the roof while Clementine tried to target the walker. It limped slowly towards the group, still so far off that it just appeared as a shuffling figure in the distance.

Clem spotted the walker in the scope, and followed it as it moved closer. She saw the spot where the dummy was planted and readied herself. She put two fingers on the trigger and lined up the crosshairs just ahead of where the walker was moving. As it neared her mark, Clem breathed out and paused. She aimed just below the walker's head, and squeezed the trigger as it moved into her crosshairs.

Clem felt another painful kick from the rifle, then watched as the shot tore off a chunk of the walker's head. It fell forward, splattering onto the pavement. Clem watched it for a second, almost expecting it to get up, then finally let go of the rifle. She sat up and rubbed her shoulder. As she turned back to Byron she noticed everyone was looking at her in surprise, except Bridget who just looked annoyed, and Bill, who seemed amused.

"Looks like we got ourselves a regular Annie Oakley," noted Bill.

"Yeah right," scoffed Bridget. "She had to aim while lying down, and it took her forever. This is just practice, she could never do that if this was for real."

"Maybe," shrugged Bill. "Or maybe she's a natural born killer."


	40. The Vengeance Factor

Clementine took her bowl of soup and sat down next to Christa. Carlos and Walter were sitting across from her, and at the end of the table was Nick, sitting alone. Clem edged closer to Nick, noting the depressed look on his face as he stared down at his bowl.

"Nick?" called Clem. "Are you okay?"

"Since when do you care?" he mumbled in a quiet voice.

"I—" Christa grabbed Clem's shoulder, pulling her away from Nick.

"Just leave him alone Clem," instructed Christa.

"But—"

"Just give him some space," said Christa, sounding concerned herself. "He'll need some time after what's happened."

"Are you okay?" Clem asked Christa.

"I'm fine. Spent all morning in the warehouse with Walter and that Hector guy," informed Christa.

"Helping to keep tally on their spoils of war," added a bitter Walter.

"They're having me list out all the drugs they have here," said Carlos. "And write out layman explanations for what they do. Probably to make it easier to get rid of me." Carlos's grim expression warmed when he saw his daughter approaching. "Are you okay sweetheart?"

"I'm fine dad," assured Sarah as she sat down next to Carlos. "Are you okay? This morning—"

"I was just very thirsty and very hungry," assured Carlos. "I'm all right now." Carlos's hands moved to the crude bandage on Sarah's head. "How's your head?" asked Carlos as he untied the piece of cloth.

"It's okay." Removing the bandage, Clem grimaced at the sight of the bloody bruise on Sarah's forehead.

"They should have let me treat you," lamented Carlos as he reapplied the dressing.

"I'm all right," assured Sarah. "Clem and her mom took care of me."

Carlos turned to Clem and Christa. "Thank you for helping her," he said in a sincere voice.

"It's fine," assured a sympathetic Christa. "She's a good kid."

"I'm sorry about all this Sarah," said Carlos. "You just be good for now. I'll think of something. I promise."

"I'm okay," assured Sarah. "Some of the stuff they've taught us is really interesting."

"Like what?" asked Walter.

"Well that Byron guy let us practice shooting," commented Mick as he sat down with Matt. "That was a nice change of pace."

"So all that gunfire I heard was just you kids practicing?" asked Christa.

"Yeah, we each got three shots with a rifle," informed Clem.

"She got four for some reason," noted Matt.

"She got four because she could actually shoot things," said Mick.

"Only because she got to do it while lying down," reasoned Matt.

"Byron told you to lie down, you wouldn't listen," reminded Mick.

"Sarah, you didn't shoot anything did you?" asked Carlos, sounding more than a little concerned.

"Yeah, I managed to hit the head on my last shot," she said proudly.

"The head of what?" asked a disturbed Carlos.

"Of the practice dummy," answered Sarah, a little intimidated by her father.

"To use children like this," Carlos mumbled to himself.

"Dad, how come you never wanted me to learn how to use a gun?"

"A good girl like you didn't need to know how to use a gun."

"But why not?"

"Because, you didn't need to use one."

"But what if there was a lurker and I had to stop it?"

"I'd stop it," stated Carlos in a stern voice. "You don't need to worry about protecting yourself Sarah. I'll keep you safe."

"I'm not worried," said Sarah.

"You know Carlos," said Christa. "She doesn't stop being a good girl just because she learned to protect herself."

"Believe me, they're not teaching any of you to use a gun so you can protect yourselves," stated Carlos.

"I don't care why they're doing it," commented Mick. "Beats work."

"You should care," said Walter. "Intent matters."

"Why?" shrugged Matt. "They already tell us what to do."

"It matters because someone's intent can tell you what they will do," explained Walter.

"They could be pretending they care about us because they want something," surmised Clementine in a bitter tone.

"I'm curious, what else are you learning in this class you go to?"

"Nothing really," said Mick. "Did more math. Some English. Then Gene went on about the Roman Empire for a while."

"He talked a lot about that Caesar guy," said Matt. "Dude sounded OG."

"So he taught you about one of history's most famous dictators? That's comforting," mused a sarcastic Walter. "Anything else?"

"We played a game before we left," said Sarah.

"What kind of game?"

"It was this what if thing where if you rat on someone you get out of prison, unless they ratted on you too," explained Mick.

"Yeah, but if nobody told, they each only got one year in prison," added Sarah.

"He taught you about the prisoner's dilemma?" concluded Walter.

"He asked each of us if we would tell or not," explained Clementine.

"Those two are the only ones dumb enough to say they wouldn't." Matt gestured to Sarah and Clem.

"So this man didn't actually explain the significance of this thought exercise?" asked Walter.

"What significance?" asked Mick. "It was just a game."

"That game demonstrates why rational people might not cooperate even if it may have been in their bests interests to do so," explained Walter. "The best outcome, going free, is only achieved by betraying someone who doesn't betray them, so, rationally, someone would be inclined to choose to do that.

"But since it's the rational decision, then it's also likely the other person will also choose it, which means both people end up with a harsher punishment than if they had just remained silent instead. This goes back to what I was saying yesterday, that when we're willing to put ourselves at risk, we all benefit."

"Yeah, unless the other guy betrays you," reminded Mick. "Then they go free and you get nabbed."

"Well, that's the dilemma," said Walter. "To get the best result for everyone, not just yourself, you have to put yourself at the greatest risk, and hope someone else is willing to do the same. And as you said yesterday, people don't always help each other. And it's often not any kind of malice either, just a rational interest in protecting one's self that we all have. You both choose to betray right?" Mick and Matt nodded at Walter. "Why?"

"Because, the other person will probably pick it," said Mick. "And if they don't we go free. It just makes sense."

"Yes, it does. But what if one of you was asked to betray the other?" asked Walter. "Would you do it?"

"Fuck no," answered Mick.

"No way I'm snitching on my bro," added Matt.

"You trust each other?" asked Walter.

"Hell yeah," said Matt.

"We wouldn't have gotten this far if we didn't," explained Mick.

"Exactly," said Walter with a smile. "You're stronger because that trust ensures there's at least one other person working with your best interest at heart, and you can accomplish more with two working to a mutual goal than just one."

"But I trust him because he's my brother," said Mick. "I really don't feel like trusting someone I don't know, especially since I ended up here."

"What if you did trust someone else, and they did help you?" asked Walter. "I won't dismiss the risk involved with trusting people you don't know. Obviously you've seen first hand what happens when people take advantage of your good intentions. But what if the gamble pays off? Then you would have another person looking after you, and your brother." Clementine smiled at Christa, who smiled back at her.

"Clementine, Sarah, they said you two chose to not speak against another person, despite the risk. Why not?" asked Walter.

"Well, I didn't want to get someone else in trouble because of me," said Sarah. "If I told and they didn't, they'd get punished way worse."

"I thought, if the other person didn't tell, then it means we could trust each other." Clementine couldn't help looking at Sarah as she said that.

"You're acting like if someone did one thing for you, you'd trust them forever," said Mick. "But it doesn't work like that. When shit hits the fan, people turn on each other."

"You're right, trust is a fragile bond, easily damaged or broken," conceded Walter. "There's actually another version of the prisoner's dilemma where it's an ongoing game, instead of a singular decision. And instead of years of a prison sentence, you're competing for the most points."

"How do you play?" asked Sarah.

"Everyone splits into groups of two and decide in secret whenever to betray the other or not. Then everyone shows their answers and you change partners. Obviously we don't have the time to play it properly right now, but, just for a quick demonstration." Walter looked at Matt.

"Let's say you and I are playing. And we'd get three points for cooperating, one for betraying each other, and betraying someone who doesn't gets you five points and they get nothing. So, what would you do?" asked Walter.

"You're going up the river old man, I know you're a goody two-shoes, so that's an easy five points," reasoned Matt.

"Let's say I didn't betray you and you did." Walter turned to Christa. "Say you and Matt were playing now. What would you do?"

"Seeing as he just betrayed you, I'm not trusting him," answered Christa as she glared at Matt.

"Well I wouldn't trust you either," retorted Matt.

"So, mutual betrayal. That's a point each." Walter looked to Mick next. "You and I now. Would you betray me?"

"No," answered Mick.

"Wait, what?" asked Matt.

"Like you said, he's a goody two-shoes, he's not gonna betray me. It's a safe move," reasoned Mick.

"Yeah, but you get less points," said Matt.

"This round he did." Walter turned to Sarah. "If Mick was your player, would you betray him?"

"I guess not." Mick smirked at Sarah, but stopped when he saw Carlos glaring at him.

"What if it were Matt?" asked Walter.

"Well… I don't think I could trust him if he betrayed you and Christa," admitted Sarah.

"Oh bite me," said Matt. "This game is stupid."

"I think I get it," said Mick. "This is you telling us everything's better if we get along, again? Right?"

"Well, it's better for everyone if everyone cooperated," answered Walter. "But if one person wants to get the most points, nonstop cooperation is a losing strategy because you'd be seen as exploitable by people wanting to get ahead. By contrast, nonstop betrayal is a failing strategy because no one will agree to cooperate with you, denying you any opportunities to ever successfully betray them." Matt crossed his arms.

"So, how do you win then?" asked Christa.

"Well, someone did a study once and discovered a couple of key elements to winning strategies. One important aspect is to always cooperate on the first turn. First impressions count for a lot, and if your first move is to betray someone, it tends to follow you through the rest of the game."

"He's talking about you." Mick nudged his brother, who just glared in response.

"The other thing he discovered was altruistic strategies did better than greedy ones. If people think you'll cooperate, then they're more likely to cooperate."

"But you said you'd lose if you only cooperate with people," reminded Clem.

"You likely would, but if people think you'd cooperate, it gives you more opportunities to betray them," explained Walter. "So like I said, it's in your own interests to help people, but not all the time, assuming you're only acting in your own interests."

"Hold up. Are you telling me this whole nice guy act you're pulling is just so you can get one over on us at some point?" accused a suspicious Mick.

"Well, speaking for just myself, I personally believe if we're going to move forward as a species, we have to be willing to trust each other. So, I'm willing to risk myself in helping people in hopes it'll make it easier for them to trust others. Which as I said, is better for all of us in the end," explained Walter.

"But if someone did want to take advantage of you, it'd be in their interests to make you believe they care about your interests first, because if you trusted them, it'd be easier for them to exploit you." Clem slumped over in her chair, wounded by Walter's words.

"One-minute warning!" announced Maude as she stood up. "Finish your lunch, get your water, and get back to work." Groans followed Maude's announcement, mostly from the other members of the crew sitting around her. Clem made sure to get her water and give her bowl to Cookie. Returning to the table, she saw Byron standing next to Sarah.

"You two are with me today," he explained to Clem. "We're going to do some basic gun maintenance."


	41. Only What You Have To

Clem and Sarah followed Byron to the other side of the warehouse. There Clem saw several more cargo containers neatly arranged in rows of two, each with an added chimney, much like the ones Cookie's kitchen had.

"That's where I used to live," Sarah whispered to Clem. "That red one on the end is where me and my dad used to sleep."

Byron approached Hector, who was standing in front of a shorter green container sitting apart from the rows of longer containers. Hector picked a key from his massive key ring and unlocked a pair of padlocks on the container. Byron stepped into the container and grabbed a broomstick leaning against the wall.

"Let me get the lights on before you lock it up." Byron took the broomstick and pushed a piece of metal off an opening cut into the ceiling. Watching from outside, Clem could see a section of metal had been hinged to the top of the container, like a hatch. She saw two more hatches swing open before Byron set the broomstick down. "All right, inside." Clem and Sarah stepped into the container. The door promptly slammed closed behind them, followed by some metal clicking.

"He's locking us in?" asked a nervous Sarah.

"Since it's a pain for Hector to constantly unlock and relock the lockers, and Bill doesn't trust anyone but Hector or himself with the keys, it's just easier to lock the whole room when someone is in here," explained Byron. "Don't worry, Hector will let us out when we're done."

Looking around the dimly lit container, Clem could see three tables laid out against one wall, each covered in plastic. Planted against the back wall were a couple of tall lockers, and a short safe to the side of them. Byron opened one of the lockers, inspected each rifle he had on his back, then placed them inside.

"What are we doing?" asked Clem.

"The three of us are going to clean some guns," explained Byron. "Now, you both remember rule number one of gun safety right?"

"The gun is always loaded," said Clementine.

"Good. Little subsection of that rule is anytime you pick up a gun that wasn't in your possession, you check to see if it's actually loaded." Byron sat down at one of the tables and picked up a small revolver that was sitting there. "For a revolver that's easy enough, just pop out the cylinder and look." Byron pressed a latch, allowing the cylinder to slide out. He held the gun at an angle where Clem and Sarah could see the chambers were all empty.

"Now you remember rule number two?" asked Byron.

"Don't point a gun at something you don't want to kill," said Sarah.

"Right, so even when you're cleaning a gun keep the barrel pointed away from anything you don't want shot. Also remember rule three, make sure it's also not pointing at something that may have someone behind it either." Byron set the revolver down.

"For self-loading pistols, you need to be a little more careful." Byron removed his own gun from his holster. "Remove the magazine first." Byron pressed the release and the magazine slid into his hand, which he set on the table. "Then pull the slide back to eject the round in the chamber if there is one." Byron pulled on the top of the gun, causing it to eject a single bullet.

"Then, look into the breach to be sure beyond any doubt the gun is in fact unloaded." Byron angled his pistol so Sarah and Clementine could see there was no bullet inside. "Got it?" Clem and Sarah nodded.

"All right." Byron loaded the single bullet back into the magazine, reloaded the gun, pulled back the slide, then placed the gun back in his holster. "Now, knowing what I just told you. I want you to inspect these two guns." Byron placed a pair of pistols on the table. Clem recognized them both. The revolver used to be Pete's, and the other gun used to be hers.

"They're unloaded." Clem couldn't help thinking Byron almost sounded sarcastic when he said the world unloaded. "But remembering rule one, you're to treat them if they were loaded when handling them. Double check to see if they're empty while I get the cleaning supplies." Byron took the smaller revolver and headed for the lockers. Sarah reluctantly picked up Pete's gun while Clem took her own.

Clem slid the magazine out, which was empty, then pulled on the slide like Byron said. A single bullet bounced onto the table. Clem eyed it in surprise, then looked over to Byron. He was still looking through the locker for something. Turning back to the lone bullet, Clem felt an odd urge to just pocket it before Byron turned around.

"Mr. Byron." Turning her head, Clem noticed Sarah was also looking at the bullet. "I think there was still a bullet in this gun." Byron spun around in a hurry and set the toolbox he was holding on the table. He picked up the bullet and looked right at Clementine.

"Any reason she noticed this before you did?" asked Byron.

"I noticed it, it just… surprised me. And she said something before I could."

Byron's eyes narrowed as he pocketed the bullet. "Speak up next time." Byron sat down between Clem and Sarah. "And that demonstrates the importance of rule number one." Byron took the pistol Clem was holding and checked it again to see if it was loaded. Then set it down and looked at the revolver Sarah was holding.

"All right, before we can clean a gun, we need to disassemble it." Byron picked up Clem's gun. "Good thing about Glocks is they're easy to take apart. With them, when you're sure the gun isn't loaded, you pull the trigger." Byron pulled the trigger. Much to Clem's surprise, the trigger didn't spring back into position.

"Now, pull down on these." Byron gestured to a pair of tabs just above the trigger. Clem grabbed them and slid them towards the trigger. "Now, take the slide, wiggle it back ever so slightly, then try to pull it forward." Clem tugged on the top of the gun a little until she heard a slight click, then pushed it forward, taking off the entire top of the gun.

"Wow, I didn't know it could do that," awed Clem as she looked at the two halves of the gun. Byron took the slide and turned it over.

"You've got the spring." Byron removed a large spring from the slide. "Then the barrel." Byron removed a black metal tube that was angular at one end and looked into it with a penlight. "I'm guessing this hasn't been cleaned since before shit hit the fan, if ever."

"I didn't know you had to clean guns," said Clementine.

"Me neither," said Sarah.

"Neither did most everyone at this place before I got here," explained Byron as he arranged the pieces of the gun so that the parts that needed to be connected were sitting next to each other. "And the ones who did weren't any good at it." Byron took the revolver in front of Sarah

"Mick said you know a lot about guns because you were a soldier," said Sarah. "Is that true?"

"I'm not a soldier. I wasn't even old enough to join the army until about a month before everything went to shit. But my dad owned a gun shop, and I ended up stuck working there after school, a lot. Not that the old bastard ever paid me for any of my work," groused Byron as he took a screwdriver from his vest.

"Wasted whole summers there cleaning guns for nit picky collectors and listening to the type of morons who would spend all afternoon blathering on about home defense, only to throw a loaded gun under a couch or bed for their kids to find." Clementine flinched upon hearing that. "Still, I'd be hard pressed to say that experience isn't coming in handy now. It got me out of the pen for about a week."

"A week?" asked Clementine. "But I thought you were out of the pen for good?"

"I am, I guess. But not because I'm the resident gunsmith," explained Byron as he disassembled the revolver's grip. "When I got done fixing, cleaning, and lubricating their armory, I was given a choice: I could join the crew, or go back to the pen."

"Even after you fixed all their guns?" asked Sarah in disbelief.

"Now that they were 'fixed', Bill figured they didn't need me on a regular basis, unless I could build them bullets. I told him even if had the powder and primers I wouldn't know where to start. So, as a counter offer, he said I could work with his cadre of scavengers. I didn't like the idea of going back to the pen, so I took the job." Byron detached the revolver's cylinder.

"Now you kill people for Bill?" asked Clementine in a bitter voice.

"I do what I have to," retorted Byron in a sharp tone. "And I've never killed anyone I don't have to."

"You had to kill Pete?" Byron glared at Clem.

"Yes," answered Byron in a certain voice. "He went for George's gun, I had to stop him."

"You had to?" asked a dubious Clementine.

"Yes, in the same way you have to do what the rest of the crew tells you to do," explained Byron. "You disobey them and they'll work you harder and feed you less, if anything. It's no different for me just because I'm out of the pen, especially since they could always throw me back in there. If Pete wanted to live, he shouldn't have tried to shoot George right in front of me."

"Then why didn't you kill me?" Sarah's question halted Byron's hand as he was turning a screw. "I aimed a gun at George, but—"

"I know what happened. I was there." Sarah flinched as Byron raised his voice.

"Don't yell at her just for asking a question." Byron sighed in response to Clementine's scolding.

"What do you expect me to say to something like that?" Byron asked Sarah. "I didn't want to shoot a terrified teenage girl who clearly had no idea what she was doing."

"But you would, if you had to?" asked Clem, less angry now.

Byron took a breath. "If it came to that, yes," answered a dispirited Byron. "I guess that makes me a monster." Byron removed the revolver's side plate.

"Cleaning a gun isn't all that complicated once you've got it apart." Byron removed a pair of long tools from the toolbox. Clem couldn't help thinking they looked like miniature toilet brushes. "This is your bore brush. It's what scrubs the barrel of the gun, so to speak." Byron laid them on the table. "And these are patch holders." Byron laid out a few long plastic tools that looked a lot like big sewing needles.

"Now, we thread this with a patch." Byron removed a piece of fabric from the tool box. He pulled the fabric through the small hole at the end of the tool. "Then, we douse it with some solvent, that's your cleaner." Byron picked up a squirt bottle and lightly sprayed the fabric patch. "Then, you push this into the barrel and pull it out." Byron demonstrated with the disassembled barrel from Clem's gun. When the tool came back out, the fabric was covered in filth.

"Eww," said Sarah as she looked at the dirty cloth.

"Eww indeed," said Byron. "Too much build up and it'll affect accuracy, lead to jamming, cause misfires, could even make the gun explode in your hand."

"Really?" asked a frightened Clem.

"Possibly, eventually, but it'd have to be in very poor condition for that to happen. Probably years upon years of heavy use and total neglect," assured Byron. "This one is fine it just needs some routine maintenance." Byron grabbed one of the bore brushes.

"We put a tiny bit of solvent on the brush and push it through the barrel until it comes out the other end." Clem watched as the brush end popped out of the barrel.

"Then pull it straight out, but only after it comes out the other end. You do that while it's in the barrel and you may bend the brush." Byron pulled the brush out and handed it and the barrel to Clementine. "Do that about five times, then get a fresh patch, apply a bit of solvent, start over. And you keep doing that until the patch comes out clean."

Clementine pushed the brush through the barrel and then pulled it out. "If you're in a rush or you don't have a brush you can try to get by with just pushing some solvent soaked rags through the barrel." Byron threaded the other tool, doused it with the solvent and handed it to Sarah. "And with a revolver you need to do the chambers as well, but I'll handle that to save time." Byron placed the revolver's cylinder in front of himself and grabbed another patch holder from the box.

"What if I mess up?" asked a nervous Sarah. "Are there any extra patches?" Byron grabbed a handful of cut up fabric and dropped it onto the table. "Oh."

"You can make patches out anything clean really," explained Byron as he threaded his holder. "I've been mostly cutting up old shirts." Clem and Sarah started cleaning the gun barrels as best they could while Byron watched them, leading to an awkward silence. Somewhere around her second time scrubbing the barrel with a brush, Sarah spoke up.

"So, do you not feel bad at all about killing Pete?" she asked in a timid voice.

"Like I said, he shouldn't have gone for George's gun," repeated Byron.

"You did it because you thought something worse would happen if you didn't," rationalized Sarah. "But, do you feel bad that you had to do that?"

"I didn't want to kill him if that's what you're asking," answered Byron. "I was just doing what I had to. Doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"What about George?" asked Clementine. "Or Consuelo? Do they enjoy it?"

"I won't defend a monster like George, or filth like Consuelo, but we're not all like that," argued Byron. "Some of us would like to be decent people again, someday."

"Which ones?" asked Clem.

"Huh?"

"Which people here want to be good?" clarified Clementine. "So we know which ones don't want to hurt us."

"Hmm, well, there's me," noted Byron. "And I don't want to hurt either of you if I don't have to."

"Why would you have to?" asked a worried Sarah.

"Just saying, if you did something wrong, I might not have a choice." Clementine couldn't help noticing Byron was looking in her direction when he said that. "So, just follow the rules and be careful."

"What about the others?" asked Clem.

"Well, on the crew, you've got Maude. She's a total tight ass. There's Lloyd. Older guy, I don't know him that well but he's usually friendly. Harry, he keeps to himself. Richard, whose nickname is appropriately Dick, because he's a dick. Don't say anything to him, it'll just make him more of an annoying asshole. Tom's a good guy, or as much as you can be in a place like this. Then you've got Consuelo," recounted Byron in a bitter voice.

"She's a cunt," noted Clem.

"Clementine," scolded Sarah.

"No, that describes her perfectly," concurred Byron. "She's a fucking moron too."

"Why is she even on the crew then?" asked Clementine.

"She's Bill's pet," answered Byron.

"Pet?" asked a confused Clem.

"Like, a dog?" asked Sarah.

"I wouldn't insult dogs by comparing them to Consuelo," smirked Byron. "Basically, Bill likes to keep her around, so we all have to suffer for it. Shame you shot her thumb instead of her head."

"You… you don't mean that do you?" asked a nervous Sarah.

"I wouldn't lose any sleep if she died," shrugged Byron. "Moving off the crew, we got Gertrude and her daughter."

"We already met them," said Clem.

"How such a nice woman raised such an annoying brat I'll never know," said Byron. "There's Ed, our mechanic. Lauren, she stays in her greenhouse. Cookie, the… cook. Real nice guy. Hector, who literally has the keys to this place. He keeps inventory and schedules. And there's Gene, who's Bill's advisor or something. Never quite sure what he does, but he seems to be in charge when Bill's not around."

"What about that guy who pushes the food cart?" asked Clem.

"Oh right, Edmund. Forgot about him," said Byron.

"Mick says he's told on people to get out of the pen," said Sarah.

"Tom told me he still does that, and not just for people in the pen," said Byron. "So, don't say anything in front of him you don't want Bill to hear."

"If everyone knows he's a tattletale, how does he ever get anyone to tell him anything?" Byron shrugged at Clementine.

"That's his problem. Tom told me in the early days, before I was here, Bill used to depend on Maude to keep tabs on everyone. Then everyone got wise to her and she had to join the crew to keep out of the pen."

"And what about George?" asked Clem in a quieter voice.

"Stay away from him," warned Byron.

"I will," nodded Clem.

"He scares me," said Sarah.

"He scares everyone," said Byron. "It's like what he does. I think that's why Bill keeps him around. Just so people will think twice before breaking the rules."

"Are you scared of George?" asked Sarah.

"Damn right I am," answered Byron. "Anyone who says they're not is either stupid or lying."

"Which one would Bill be?" asked Clem.

"He'd be lying," answered Byron in a quiet voice. "Only one who ever had the nerve to stand up to George at all was Pete. And we all saw how that ended."

"Maybe if you hadn't of helped George, it would've ended differently," accused Clem.

"Well maybe if Pete had stayed here where we needed him instead of leaving us with the likes of George, I would have been in a position to help him," retorted an annoyed Byron. "I used to think he cared about us, or at least some of us. When he led supply runs it seemed like he actually wanted to get us back alive. But I guess his stupid nephew was more important than all of us."

"You don't like Nick?" asked Sarah.

"Nope," answered Byron without hesitation.

"Is it because of that man he killed?" asked Clem. "Because Nick only shot him because he was stepping on my neck, trying to kill me." Both Sarah and Byron turned to Clem, stunned by what she said.

"Greg did that to you?" Clem nodded. "Well, good riddance to that piece of shit then," scoffed Byron without a hint of sympathy. "But no, I don't give a fuck he killed Greg. What annoys me about him is that I had to join the crew to get out of the pen, he got to stay out because he was Pete's nephew. He never risked his ass on supply runs like I did, just because of who he was related to."

"Just like me." Byron looked at Sarah and noticed the guilty look on her face.

"Well that's different, you're, how old?"

"Thirteen," answered Sarah.

"Nick's older than me, he could handle the supply runs."

"What if he couldn't?" asked Clem. "Pete said Nick hates going near walkers."

"I don't exactly like to get close to them myself," said Byron.

"Maybe Pete was just trying to protect Nick," suggested Sarah. "When my dad had to go with Nick to do something, he stayed with me until they got back, and told me I didn't have to be scared because he'd protect me. Maybe he felt that way about Nick too."

"Wish he had felt that way about the rest of us," grumbled Byron.

"Maybe he did, but he just couldn't protect everyone?" suggested Clem.

"Maybe," said Byron in a quiet voice. "He was the one who brought that one-eyed kid here. And he always seemed worried about him."

"Pete found Adam?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, he was covered in filth from head to toe when he brought him here, acted more like a wild animal than a person. Gene spent some time with him and got the kid talking again, and then he wound up in the pen," lamented Byron. "That never set right with Pete."

"Does it set right with you?" asked Clem.

"No," answered Byron. "I still feel like I'm too young for this shit, let alone people half my age. I could tell that Adam kid didn't want to go near the gun and I told him to anyway, and I felt like a damn pedophile when I had to search you for weapons."

"A pedophile?" repeated a confused Sarah.

"What's that?" asked Clem.

"It just means… people who don't treat kids right."

"That's a lot of people now…" Byron examined the barrel Clementine had been cleaning and the revolver Sarah was holding.

"All right, that should be enough. We can move onto the rest now." Byron removed a couple of toothbrushes from the toolbox.

"Cleaning the other parts of the gun is simpler. Just apply your solvent and brush any moving parts. Wipe them down with a rag and repeat until clean." Byron sprayed the toothbrushes with the cleaning solution, then handed the brushes to Clem and Sarah, taking a moment to point to where they should clean.

"Are you really Carlos's daughter?" asked Byron as the girls started scrubbing.

"Yeah, why?"

"I always just figured you were a myth or something," said Byron. "I'd occasionally hear about you, but I'd never see you."

"I had to stay in my room," said Sarah.

"Twenty-four seven?" Sarah nodded. "Damn. That had to be hard."

"Well, it was okay I guess," shrugged Sarah. "My dad did bring me new books every week, so, that was nice."

"Those were for you?" asked Byron. "I always thought that guy was spending his allowance on books because he was bored or something."

"Allowance?" asked Sarah.

"Everybody, or I guess almost everybody outside the pen, gets a weekly allowance where they get to pick a few items they want from the warehouse," explained Byron. "People mostly opt for a couple of extra cans of food, but Tom likes to get cigarettes occasionally and he told me Maude has gone for Vodka more than once. Guess even she has trouble being around herself sometimes." Clem watched as Sarah started looking down at her jacket.

"Can you get clothes with your allowance?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, first time I got mine I opted for a new outfit just because my old one was so filthy and worn out," explained Byron. "Let me ask you both something. None of the crew have offered to give you any food? Right?"

"No," said Sarah.

"Why do you want to know?" asked a suspicious Clem.

"Just telling you now, if they do, don't take it," explained Byron.

"Why not?" asked Clem.

"Will we get into trouble?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, we're not supposed to give things to people in the pen," explained Byron. "Takes away their motivation to do better, or some shit like that."

"Then why would anyone ever give us food?" asked Clem. "If they knew they'd get in trouble?"

"Well…" Byron took a deep breath. "We can still trade with people in the pen."

"Trade for what?" asked Sarah.

"All I got is my backpack, some drawings and my hat," listed Clementine.

"They wouldn't want any of that," remarked Byron in a glib tone.

"What then?" asked Sarah.

"There was a woman we saw on the first day who said she'd do anything if she got some food," said Clem. "But nobody would give her anything. What do you have to do to get more food?"

"It's nothing either of you want to do, trust me," answered a concerned Byron.

"But what is it?" asked Sarah.

"It's…" Byron sighed. "Look, you were asking me if I'd kill or hurt one of you if they made me. Just think about that if someone says they can get you food. It's only because they want you to do something bad, okay?"

"Okay," nodded Sarah.

"I doubt anyone is going to ask either of you," reassured Byron.

"Because we're both young?" asked Clem.

"Yeah." Byron removed a couple of larger rags from the box. "All right, that should be enough. Now just wipe down the whole thing real good. You want to get all the cleaner off. After that, I'll grease them and put them back together." Clementine and Sarah each took a rag and started wiping the pieces down.

"Um, Byron," said Sarah.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think you're a monster."

"Really?" asked Byron, sounding unconvinced.

"It was terrible that you shot Pete, but, I get that it wasn't because you're a terrible person and… thanks for not shooting me," said Sarah in an emotional voice.

"You shouldn't have to thank people for that," mused Byron.

"Well, thanks for getting my hat back," said Clem.

"Your hat?"

"Consuelo threw it away, but you picked it up," reminded Clem.

"I was just doing what Tom said. He said take the new people and their things to Bill, and that hat belonged to you."

"I don't think some of the other people here would have done that," reasoned Clem.

"Maybe…" shrugged Byron.

"So thanks," said Clem.

"Well, you're welcome, I guess." Byron shrugged and removed a tube from the toolbox. "So, last thing you should do is lubricate a couple of key moving parts." Clem watched as Byron took the slide and applied a tiny amount of grease from the tube on a couple of spots. "It's like greasing a squeaky wheel. But you only want to use a tiny bit, any more and it'll attract dirt and dust and actually gunk things up." Clem watched Byron grease a few other parts of the gun before setting the tube down.

"All that's left now is putting it back together." Byron looked at Clem. "Give it a try."

"Me?"

"Like I said, Glocks are easy to take apart. Just put the pieces back the way you saw earlier." Clem looked at the disassembled gun. "If you miss anything I'll let you know." She took the slide first and flipped it upside down. Then she took the barrel and slid it back inside the slide. The spring was difficult, requiring a lot effort to push into place. After that Clem took the completed slide and looked at Byron.

"That's right." Clem picked up the lower half of the gun and slid the upper half back onto it. "Like I said, easy."

"Yeah," noted Clem as she looked at the now fully assembled gun.

"You should put the safety back on while you're at it."

"Even though it has no bullets?" asked Clem.

"Rule number one, the gun is always loaded. Keep reminding yourself of that until it becomes habit. It'll keep you from making a fatal mistake." Clementine located her gun's safety and switched it on. "All though on most Glocks, you wouldn't even have a safety to switch on."

"Why not?" asked Clem.

"Glocks don't come with manual safeties," answered Byron.

"Why not?" asked Sarah.

"Supposedly because their guns are so safe they don't need them," answered Byron. "But safeties also keep people from pulling the trigger when they shouldn't, so I prefer them. We used to sell kits out of my dad's shop that let you install manual safeties on Glocks."

"Because it made them safer?" asked Sarah.

"Actually it was just because my dad marked them up and it was usually easy to pressure new gun owners into shelling out the extra money for them," explained Byron. "Then he'd make a little more by offering to install it for them, which he'd usually pawn off on me if I was around."

"I'm sorry," said Sarah.

"Eh, of everything he made me do, that didn't really bother me. Least every time I installed one of those I knew it was for someone who was at least thinking about safety." Byron eyed the disassembled revolver laid out in front of Sarah. "You wanna try screwing that revolver back together?"

"Um, will you help me if I get stuck?"

"Sure." Byron handed Sarah a screwdriver. "Let me grease it and you can get right to it." Byron took the grease tube and started working. "You should go head and cycle that Glock a few times."

"Cycle?" asked Clem.

"Pull the trigger, pull the slide," explained Byron. "Do that a few times to spread the grease around." Clem took the safety off, aimed the gun away from Byron and Sarah, pulled the trigger, then pulled the slide back. Each time she felt a tinge of pride in understanding her weapon a little better. Then it dawned on her, it wasn't hers anymore.

"I wish I could keep it," admitted Clem.

"That's not happening," assured Byron in a droll tone.

"I know. This gun used to belong to someone special," said Clem. "I guess you think that's stupid."

"Actually, I used to lug around an old bolt action rifle just because it belonged to my father," admitted Byron.

"But you don't anymore?" asked Sarah.

"Lost it. Someone shot out the scope while I was trying to shoot them. Nothing short of a miracle that same shot didn't also take off my head. Not that things got any better after that. Shit went so wrong that night," Byron mumbled to himself.

"Did that happen when you came here?" asked Sarah.

"No, this was a while back with a different group of people. They're long gone now."

"They died?" asked Clementine.

"Some of them. I actually don't know what happened to all of them." Byron paused, as if he was lost in thought. "Either of you ever meet a woman named Lana?"

"No." said Clem.

"Sorry," said Sarah.

"It's fine, it's ancient history now."

"Is there anyone else you want to find?"

"Well, not sure if I want to find her after what happened, but, did either of you ever meet an Alice?"

"No, sorry," said Sarah.

"Wait, Matthew said he met a woman named Alice."

"Mick's annoying brother said he saw Alice?" asked Byron in disbelief.

"No, different Matt. This one was staying with Walter at the lodge when you attacked us."

"That guy on the bridge," Byron whispered to himself. "Well, what'd he say?"

"He said she was a big lady with red hair who came by a month ago. And I think her name was Alice Underwood." Byron's eyes widened in shock. "You knew her?"

"Yeah… I knew her," said Byron in a quiet voice. "Did this Matthew guy say anything else?"

"Just that her and the girl with her looked like they had a hard time."

"Girl?"

"The name on the wall said Annabelle." Clem watched as Byron slumped over in his seat, a stunned look frozen on his face.

"Holy fuck," he whispered. "She actually found her."


	42. Missed Connections

Clem marched with Sarah back towards the entrance to the pen, the walls of the yard casting long shadows over everything in the waning daylight. Byron followed right behind them. He had guided the girls through cleaning some larger guns while explaining different ammo types and sizes, but otherwise had been mostly quiet, as if constantly lost in thought.

Nearing the pen, Clem noticed a thin older man with gray hair standing watch. He looked fairly harmless compared to some of the other members of the crew she had encountered.

"Hey Lloyd," called Byron.

"Byron." Clem was surprised to hear the man had a very high-pitched voice.

"Is there a, Walter was it?" Clem nodded at Byron. "Yeah, is Walter in there?"

"Nah, I think he's still with Hector in the warehouse, along with Harry and the pregnant lady," informed Lloyd as he stood up. "You want me to call and check?"

"Nah. Hector just let us out of the armory, I'll go catch up with him myself." Byron left Sarah and Clem with Lloyd.

"All right, stay away from the door y'all," instructed Lloyd in a friendly voice. "Arms out darling." Sarah shuddered as Lloyd frisked her. "You're good, go on in." Clem noticed Lloyd's smile grew wider as she stepped in front of him.

"Aren't you just the most precious little thing," said Lloyd in a sweet voice. Clem held her arms out, and felt her skin crawl as Lloyd's hands moved down her sides. She didn't like strangers touching her, and Lloyd seemed to have an oddly firm grip. Clem breathed a sigh of relief as Lloyd finally reached her ankles and let go of her.

"My girl, you're nothing but skin and bones," observed Lloyd, sounding worried for Clem.

"Well maybe you should feed us more," quipped Clem.

"I could get something for you if you're hungry," suggested Lloyd with smile.

"Really?" asked Clem. "Wait, would I have to kill someone, or hurt someone first?"

"Of course not," assured Lloyd. "Wouldn't have to hurt no one darling."

"Um… I'm okay," assured Clem.

"Well, if you change your mind, just ask for Lloyd." Clem stepped into the pen. Mick and Matt were talking in the corner, while Nick was sitting alone in the opposite corner. Clem decided to move towards where Sarah was sitting near her father.

"I want you to stay away from those boys," Carlos told Sarah.

"But why?" asked Sarah. "Mick likes me."

"I just want you to stay away from them," repeated Carlos.

"You said the same thing about Clementine," argued Sarah. "And now she's my best friend." Even though Clem knew there wasn't much competition for that title, she couldn't stop herself from smiling upon hearing the words 'best friend.'

"Well…" Carlos tried to think of a rationale. "I didn't know Clementine then. Now I do and know she treats you right. I don't want you going near those boys until I know they'll do the same." Clem found it odd to hear Carlos say something good about her, and even odder it made Clem feel a little better.

"Away from the door everybody." Clem looked over to see Lloyd searching Christa. She looked annoyed, but soon smiled as she saw Clem waiting for her inside.

"How you doing today sweetie?" asked Christa as she sat down.

"Good," answered Clem with a smile.

"Good?" asked Christa in surprise.

"Well, you know, as good as I can be right now," explained Clem.

"Glad to hear it." Christa put her arm around Clem.

"What about you?" asked Clem.

"I'm fine. Sorting crap in there is tedious, but it's not hard," assured Christa. "Although, someone pulled Walter aside on our way back."

"Was it a young blonde guy?" asked Clem.

"Yeah, you know him?" asked Christa.

"That's Byron. He was showing us how to clean guns," explained Clem. "Walter may have met someone he used to know. He probably wanted to ask him about it."

"He's pretty nice," added Sarah.

"Nice?" repeated Carlos in disbelief. "Sarah, that man pointed a gun at you."

"I know that," said Sarah. "But he didn't shoot me."

"And that makes him nice?" asked Carlos in frustration.

"Well, no," conceded Sarah. "But he was nice to me today, and wasn't he one of the people bringing me food before?"

"What?" asked Carlos.

"When I lived here before," clarified Sarah. "He was one of the people who went out looking for food wasn't he? So that means he was helping to feed me when I lived here."

"He was helping to feed himself, he didn't go out looking for food just for you Sarah," explained Carlos. "George has brought back food. He took Walter's food. Does that make him nice?"

"No. But Byron's not like George," argued Sarah.

"He doesn't have to be," said Carlos. "As long as he's doing what Carver tells him, he's dangerous."

"But why?" asked Sarah. "Wasn't Mr. Carver in charge when I lived here before?"

"Yes but…" Carlos thought to himself. "He changed sweetheart. That's why it wasn't safe and we had to leave before. And that's why you have to be careful now, because anyone doing what Carver says is dangerous, including Byron. Don't forget, he killed Pete to protect George."

"Wait, what?" Nick stood up and approached Carlos. "Did you just say that skinny bitch Byron shot Pete? Not George?"

"When Pete took his gun back from George," explained Carlos.

"I'll kill that skinny bitch," growled Nick. "I'll choke him next time we're alone."

"What?" exclaimed Sarah. "Don't do that!"

"At least not until after tomorrow," suggested Mick. "Me and Matt want our turn in the armory before he dies."

"Nick, calm down," suggested Christa.

"Calm down?" asked an infuriated Nick. "You expect me to just be calm around the fucker who shot Pete?" Christa just stared at Nick.

"Me and her had to learn to keep calm around you," noted Christa in a bitter tone.

"That was different," argued Nick.

"Not to me it wasn't," retorted Christa.

"Please don't fight again," insisted Clementine, dreading another argument. "Things always get worse when you fight."

"She's right, drop it," demanded Carlos. "Carver is responsible for our problems. Don't lose sight of that."

"Whatever," said Nick. "I get a chance, I'm taking care of that Byron asshole."

"Away from the door y'all." Everyone watched as Walter entered the pen. Looking at the gate, Clem noticed Byron walking away in the distance.

"Walter, everything okay?" Walter appeared shaken. Slowly he sat down on one of the beds. "Walter, what happened?" asked Christa.

"That man…"

"Byron," informed Clementine.

"Yes, he was asking about the last visitors Matthew and I entertained, before your group arrived," explained Walter in an anxious voice.

"And?" asked Christa, impatient for an answer.

"I asked him about Matthew." Everyone leaned in close as Walter collected himself.

"What did he say?" growled an angry Nick.

"He said Consuelo faked being wounded to get Matthew's attention. They ambushed him and tied his hands, but Matthew ran off into the forest before they could call for the others. Byron said he chased after him, but lost him in the darkness, and they couldn't risk shooting him because the noise would let the rest of us know they were about to attack." Walter looked up at the group. "That means Matthew is still out there."


	43. The Ensigns of Command

"But we're not even growing potatoes yet," whined Bridget. "Why should we care about what happened to some stupid farmers over a hundred years ago?"

"Why should we care about anything that happened before the creeps showed up?" added Matt. "None of that stuff matters now."

"Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it," lectured Gene. "That's not just a clever quote, all of you can avoid a lot of problems if you take the time to learn from other people's tribulations. On the most personal level, this is your parents or family, or teacher even, telling you things they learned so you don't have to learn them the hard way. Looking at history as a whole, it can help you to gain perspective on the world."

"So what perspective are we getting here?" asked Mick. "Don't grow potatoes in Ireland?"

"We're talking about the Great Famine today because it demonstrates just how massive an impact food has on us all. Food is a basic need we all have, and if it can't be satisfied, society breaks down, as some of you may have seen outside these walls."

"Things can go wrong even if you have food," argued Clem. "People fight over other things too."

"Yes, but not until they've eaten," retorted Gene. "You don't worry about other problems until your most basic needs are satisfied first."

"Mr. Spiegel, come in." Gene grabbed his radio.

"Go head Maude," answered Gene.

"Byron is here," reported Maude. "He claims you instructed him to bring the man named Walter here."

"That's right," said Gene. "Send them in." Clem watched as the doors swung open. A confused Walter walked into the classroom, Byron following right behind him.

"Good morning," greeted Gene. "I'm Eugene Spiegel."

"Walter DeWitt." Walter shook Gene's hand. "I'm guessing this is the class I've been hearing about."

"I've heard a little about you as well," noted Gene. "Clementine said you used to be a teacher."

"Is that why I'm here?" asked Walter. "You want me to teach a class?"

"Actually I've been told you're not happy with the way we run things," said Gene. "And I thought it might be informative to the class if I address some of your concerns right here today."

"You're here to address my concerns?" asked a dubious Walter.

"From what I've heard, you sound like a civil man. I figured a frank conversation might help ease your mind a little." Gene turned to the class. "And seeing as some of them might share your concerns, I thought it would be productive to let them participate in this conversation."

"And if I say no?" asked Walter.

"Well, Byron can take you back to do regular work." Walter stared at Gene, assessing the man. "Well, would you like to talk about some of your issues you have with staying here?"

"I think I would," said Walter. "Let's start with the fact I'm staying here at all."

"You want to leave?" assumed Gene.

"Yes, and it's absurd that I can't."

"You do realize just how dangerous the world is right now?"

"Are you suggesting you won't let me leave purely for my own benefit?"

"Well, these are very dire times. I can't predict the future, but you likely would be better in here than out there."

"You are…" Gene turned to Adam.

"You want to say something Adam?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"Better in here…" the boy mumbled to himself.

"This poor boy was practically starving when we first found him," explained Gene. "Just in his short time here I've seen him do much better living with us."

"For the sake of argument, let's say you're right, and that I am in fact better off remaining here," said Walter. "What if I wanted to leave anyway?"

"Yeah?" added Matt.

"I'm afraid we just can't let people leave as they wish," consoled Gene.

"Does that include you?" asked Walter.

"Yes."

"So, we're all prisoners."

"This is not a prison."

"We're being forced to stay somewhere against our will, that sounds like we're being held prisoner to me."

"Prisons are meant to punish people," reminded Gene.

"Uh, you do punish us," reminded an annoyed Mick.

"There are punishments for misdeeds, like any society would have," argued Gene. "You are not however being kept here because you're being punished."

"Then why are we being kept here?" asked Walter. "I don't believe it's just because you care so deeply about our safety."

"Well no, it's also for the protection of everyone else," explained Gene. "When I first came here, people were allowed to leave. One day, one of them came back, with five others, hoping to take everything we had."

"When… when was this?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"Sometime in the late summer," answered Gene. "We stopped them, but only after they killed two people themselves."

"So we can't leave because we may commit a crime against you later," surmised Walter. "That sounds like we're being punished for what we may do."

"I don't see it as punishment so much as a precaution," argued Gene. "Like I said, these are dire times. We have to be careful."

"Then why do you come after people then?" asked Walter. "In case you didn't know, I was brought here against my will after being attacked despite never raising a hand against any of you."

"Again, it's a precaution to protect ourselves," explained Gene. "Our crew used to employ a live and let live policy when meeting outsiders. But we had to abandon it when some people followed our crew back here hoping for any easy target to attack. Others lay in wait hoping to kill and rob our people, or steal our trucks."

"So you attack them first so they won't attack you?" surmised Walter.

"Again, these are dire times and we have to be very careful to survive," reminded Gene.

"Again, sounds like you're preemptively punishing people for crimes they may commit," repeated Walter. "Which would make this place a prison."

"We're building a community here," insisted Gene. "I don't think most prisons do that."

"The nicest prison is still a prison," retorted Walter.

"The world's nicest prison might be the best chance for the human race right now," argued an irritated Gene. "That's why we strive to bring people back alive."

"And I was thinking you wanted people alive for free labor."

"People mean more to us than labor, and it's hardly free when we're feeding people."

"Only as long as they can work, from what I've seen."

"Another unfortunate byproduct of our situation," reasoned Gene. "We simply don't have enough to feed everyone as much as we like, so, we have to be selective in who receives how much food."

"Bill seems like he wanted us to know he has plenty," commented Walter. "Making sure we saw the inside of your warehouse our first night here."

"We have plenty now, but that won't last us forever," stated Gene. "It might take us years before we're able to farm on a scale big enough to feed everyone. So it's important we conserve our resources to avoid a future famine."

"At the cost of starving anyone who can't contribute to your satisfaction?"

"It's not our intention to starve anyone, but people who don't contribute as much don't receive as much. It's simple economics."

"Simple economics is your justification for murder?" asked a bitter Walter.

"No one has been murdered here," refuted Gene.

"What about Felicity?" asked Walter. "I assume she's dead since we haven't seen her in two days, and last we did she was sick and hungry. But not hungry enough to just drop dead. Since no one is allowed to leave, ever, I can only assume someone killed her because she couldn't work anymore."

"That's absurd," retorted Gene. "Felicity was working outside the wall and was killed by a lurker. A tragic accident, of course, but not murder."

"You saw this happen?" asked Walter.

"No, I—"

"So you don't know then?"

"We don't just kill people."

"Yes you do," accused Clem. "Consuelo and Greg tried to kill me."

"What happens out there stays out there," recited Gene. "In here, anyone working is treated fairly."

"That why anyone who's falling behind in the pen has to work outside the wall?" asked an annoyed Mick. "Where all these 'accidents' always happen. Where it'll stay out there?"

"The hard truth is someone falling behind likely isn't going to survive," refuted Gene. "It may sound harsh, but these are harsh times. Not everyone is going to make it through this crisis, and we simply can't save everyone."

"So, when Christa has her baby, and it can't keep up, I guess we won't save it then," concluded Walter in a vicious tone.

"What?" asked a confused Sarah. "You want her baby to die?"

"Of course not," answered Walter. "I'm just trying to understand this system that's supposedly the best chance for humanity."

"We are not going to let a baby die," Gene said right to Sarah. "That's absurd."

"Why?" asked Walter.

"Because it is," answered Gene.

"Why?" repeated Walter.

"I won't even humor such a ridiculous question."

"By all means, humor me," insisted Walter. "Because I don't believe for a second this place is willing to care for a baby."

"Of course we will care for a baby," answered an annoyed Gene.

"That's a commitment of years of time, attention and resources for someone who will literally contribute nothing during that entire time."

"It's a baby, how could it possibly contribute?"

"It can't, so why are you telling me this place will care for one?"

"Because we will."

"So, Shaffer's is willing to commit years to raising a newborn, but you can't give a sick woman, who you kept here against her will, a single day to rest or a morsel to eat?" surmised a disgusted Walter.

"That's different," argued Gene. "The baby can't help itself."

"How old would it have to be before it was old enough to help itself?" asked Walter. "Clearly no older than nine years at the very oldest." Walter gestured to Clementine. "Are you going to feed a child for nine years and then, if it doesn't contribute enough, let it starve to death?"

"Of course not," refuted Gene.

"But you would," assumed Clementine. "If I don't do what you say, you'll stop feeding me, right?"

"You maybe would miss a meal if you didn't cooperate, but we would never stop feeding children out right," assured Gene.

"You should," suggested an annoyed Bridget.

"Bridget, quiet," scolded Gene.

"I thought you wanted them to be a part of the conversation?" repeated Walter. "Bridget, do you think we should feed children who can't contribute?"

"I think all you moochers eat enough of my mom's eggs as it is," commented Bridget.

"Bridget," scolded Gene.

"It's true," she retorted. "Remember on the farm when it was just you, me, mom and Lauren? We had a lot more to eat then. Then we move to this place and now we gotta share everything with all these losers who don't do anything."

"And just what the fuck do you do around here?" asked Mick.

"I help take care of the chickens that feed you, asshole!" snarled a furious Bridget.

"Oh yeah, so did me and Matt yesterday!" retorted Mick. "Fucking easy as hell compared to wheeling fucking water and wood around for you stuck-up pricks!"

"Mick, Bridget, stop," urged Gene.

"In fact, what the fuck do you do around here?" Mick asked Gene.

"I'm your teacher," answered an annoyed Gene. "And I don't appreciate you talking to me like that."

"You started being my teacher a few days ago," noted Mick. "What the hell were you doing during all those months me and him were toting shit on our backs?"

"Fuck you and your loser brother," snapped Bridget. "Gene's smarter than you morons!"

"If he's so smart, how come we usually have to bring you guys your wood and water?" asked Matt. "If you're so smart, why don't you get it yourself?"

"All right, if you all can't remain civil, then we can't continue this discussion," concluded Gene. "Clearly this was a mistake."

"Yes, clearly you were terribly unprepared to discuss this topic," noted a smug Walter.

"You may enjoy arguing our communities' principles for your own amusement, but you're not the one responsible for people's lives," lectured Gene. "We're struggling here just to build a future, and we may not be perfect, but we're the ones actually doing something."

"As amusing as this was, I'm not arguing with you out of principle," retorted Walter. "From my point of view, your community's plan for the future is a contradiction. You'll unconditionally raise a baby, but at a certain arbitrary age leave that person completely at the mercy of an incredibly stringent wage system for their continued survival?"

"They're not simply 'at the system's mercy,' and these are hard times. Even the youngest who can pitch in has to lend a hand. But now that we have the school, we have them doing things more appropriate for their age."

"How long are they going to be in school?" Gene didn't answer.

"Didn't you say it was gonna be like a week?" Gene glared at Bridget.

"In either instance it makes no sense. If you're so concerned with supplies that you feel this system is necessary, why commit to children at all? Why spend years of goods and time to raise someone from infancy, then only afford them a week of education and expect them to perform on a level adults are struggling with? From a purely material view, that's a massive investment to squander so hastily."

"We're not going to simply 'squander' children, we'll take care of them," insisted Gene, sounding emotional as he did so.

"Then why so carelessly squander adults' lives then? If you can afford to care for children, why not also allow Felicity to rest when she was sick? If you can afford the incredible demands of child rearing, then surely feeding her for one more day wouldn't have had a major effect on your supplies, and she may have been well enough to avoid that accident."

"Look, you didn't know that woman," lectured Gene. "She made a major mistake that put the community at risk, and there had to be consequences for her carelessness."

"From what Maude said, she was being refused food that day because she was unable to work the previous day, not because of whatever mistake she made before that."

"They punish you no matter what happens, you people don't give a fuck about us," accused Mick as he glared at Gene. "And you're full of shit."

"All right, that's enough. Byron." Byron took a step forward. "Just take Walter here back to whatever you were doing before."

"The way I see it, there is one way to reconcile this contradiction," noted Walter as Byron approached him. "If we assume Shaffer's isn't planning for the future and has no need to raise children, then the contradiction disappears." Byron grabbed Walter's arm, but hesitated in moving the man.

"Go head and take him back to work Byron. It's about time for the class's survival lesson anyways." Byron didn't move, instead opting to just stare at Gene. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah…" Byron turned to Walter. "Come on."


	44. Like Children

"Dude kicked Gene's ass," recounted Matt as he reached for his soup bowl.

"Really now?" asked a curious Christa.

"He seemed kinda angry almost," noted Sarah.

"It was sorta fun to watch though," added Clementine.

"Was awesome watching the fucker squirm when Walter pointed out they don't really give a fuck about us or babies or anything," smirked Mick.

"Forgive me if I'm not as excited about this news as you are," quipped Christa.

"It was just great watching someone call that asshole on his bullshit," said Matt.

"And where is he now?" Carlos's question caused everyone to look around for any sign of Walter. There was no one waiting in line to get lunch, and they didn't see Walter at the other tables either.

"He's not here," realized Sarah.

"Oh yeah," noted a bemused Mick.

"Do you think he got in trouble?" Sarah asked her father.

"I don't see Gene either," noted Matt. "Maybe they're both in trouble."

"I'm sure Walter will be okay," Carlos told Sarah. "All he did was talk to Gene, they won't punish him for that."

"I hope not," said Christa. "I heard some shots about an hour ago."

"Oh that was probably just our survival class," informed Mick.

"More shooting practice?" asked Carlos.

"No, it was firecrackers," said Clementine.

"Firecrackers?" asked Christa.

"That Tom dude was telling us how you can use fireworks to distract creeps," explained Mick.

"He told us about how he'd use bottle rockets to help clear out areas of lurkers," explained Sarah. "He also said he carries firecrackers with him when he goes on supply runs, in case he needs a distraction."

"Huh, that's pretty clever actually," noted Christa.

"They used fireworks a lot in the early days," noted Carlos. "But they became difficult to find after a while, so now they're only used for emergencies."

"He also taught us about noisemakers," said Clem.

"What are those?" asked Christa.

"You just get a can or a jar and fill it with things that make noise. Like coins or screws or rocks, and then you shake it around," explained Clem. "He told us they use them before they go into buildings because it draws the walkers out, and they're easier to deal with in the open."

"He also said bells can work too," said Sarah. "But if you don't have one you can make one of these instead. And you should put cotton or paper or some other kind of stuffing in it when you're not using it, or it'll make lots of noise when you walk around. He also showed us if you tie a long rope to a bell or a noisemaker, then throw it over a street light or a tree branch, you can shake it from far away."

"It was like how Molly used bells in Savannah, but smaller and you can move it around," said Clem. "Also, Tom said I tied the best knots out of everyone."

"Nice to know I didn't spend a week boring you about knots for nothing," quipped Christa.

"He also told us about how thunderstorms confuse the lurkers, and how they react to distant sounds differently than close ones.

"Oh, he taught us about prioritizing your equipment while scavenging. Telling us you always take as much food and batteries and bullets as you can carry, because you always need them. But don't bother taking more than one gun, or knife, or stuff like that because you can't use more than one at a time.

"And he also said if you find too much food to carry back, you should just eat some of it right there, and carry it in your stomach. But don't overeat, or you'll make yourself sick.

"And then he said when you're cutting through chain link fences, you don't have to make a hole, just a straight line, and then you can just pull back the fence and slip inside." Sarah looked at her father, noticing the distressed look on his face. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing sweetheart," assured a distracted Carlos.

"If Matt and I knew this stuff before, we would have never come here," said Mick.

"But if you didn't come here you wouldn't have learned it," noted Sarah.

"Yeah, but, then we wouldn't be here," scoffed Mick. "Still not sure which is worse really."

Sarah turned to her father. "Dad, how come I always had to stay in my room before?"

"Sarah, I told you, I wanted you to be safe," reminded Carlos.

"But the rest of this place is safe," noted Sarah.

"No, not always," said Carlos.

"But, usually it is, right?"

"Sarah…"

"And how come I never had to help before either?"

"I helped enough for both of us as a doctor," reminded Carlos. "Besides, you're too young to help."

"Adam is younger than me, and doesn't he have to help?"

"Ugh, once he showed up, everyone was talking about how much happier they were with him over us," commented Mick.

"He does what we say. He doesn't complain," recited Matt in an annoyed voice.

"Sarah, you didn't need to help," assured Carlos.

"I just feel bad that other people were getting me food and I didn't do anything to help them," explained Sarah.

"Like I said, I was helping them," repeated Carlos. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But wouldn't it have been better if I had helped to?" asked Sarah. "Maybe we wouldn't have had to leave then?"

"We left because this place isn't safe anymore, and it still isn't," stated Carlos.

"But you said Mr. Carver changed," retorted Sarah. "So, wouldn't it have been okay for me to help before, when…"

"We're not discussing this anymore." Sarah made a face and turned away from her father. A hush fell on the table as everyone went back to eating. Looking over from her seat, Clem noticed Nick alone at the end of the table, staring intensely at something. Having already finished her meal, Clem moved down a couple of chairs to sit next to Nick.

"Um, what are you looking at?" Nick didn't answer, but looking over at the next table Clem could see that Byron was sitting across from Nick with his back turned. "You're still mad at Byron."

"First chance I get and he's dead," said Nick in a quiet voice.

"Nick…"

"No, he killed Pete, and I'm going to kill him."

"Then they'll kill you," reminded Clem.

"As long as I get him first."

"Pete said you shouldn't hold grudges."

"And he's gone now."

"He also told me he wanted you to survive this."

"Don't talk to me about Pete," insisted an angry Nick. "I knew him my whole life. I know what he wanted, not you. He didn't mean shit to you." Clem turned away from Nick in frustration. She thought to herself about what Pete would actually say in this situation, then turned back to Nick.

"Grow up," said an angry Clem.

"Me? You're the fucking kid," scoffed Nick.

"And you're the one acting like a kid."

"Fuck you, you don't know what this is like."

"I don't know what this is like?" repeated an angry Clementine. "I probably know more about it than you do."

"Then you'd know why I have to do this."

"I know why you want to. You're mad and you want to hurt someone. But you're just going to make things worse for all of us if you do it."

"Why should I care if I make things worse for any of you? Like any of you people give a fuck about me."

"Does that mean you don't care about any of us?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why did you save my life, twice?" Nick didn't respond. "And why did you give up when they were going to kill me?"

"Fuck you," mumbled Nick in a quiet voice as he turned away.

"Fuck you too." Clem marched away from Nick and returned to Christa.

"Just leave him alone Clem," suggested Christa as Clem sat down. "There's nothing you can do for him right now."


	45. Mileage May Vary

"Now what you have here is gasoline." Clem watched as Ed, Shaffer's resident mechanic, gestured to a small tub full of a yellowish liquid sitting on a bench. "I'm guessing you've both seen gas before. Which is good, because you don't want to confuse it with this." Ed gestured to another small tub with a brown oily liquid in it. "That's diesel. And you don't want to mix it up with gas. Or mix it with gas."

"Why, what happens?" asked Sarah.

"You put diesel in a gas engine, nothing. Damn thing won't start. You put gas in a diesel engine though, it'll start, but it won't run well, and then it probably won't run at all because the gas will tear up the engine. So it's real important to know the difference between the two. Smell the gas."

"Um, why?" asked Clem.

"So you know what it smells like." Sarah and Clem reluctantly leaned over the first tub and sniffed it. "What's it smell like?"

"Like, gas," answered Clementine as she wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah," concurred Sarah.

"Good, now smell the diesel." Clem leaned over the diesel tub. She didn't detect an immediate odor but sniffed anyway, and immediately regretted it.

"Uh, that's awful," complained Sarah.

"Yeah, it is," said Clem as she covered her nose.

"Doesn't smell like gas, does it?" asked Ed.

"No," said Clem, still recoiling from the stench in her nostrils.

"That's one way you can tell," said Ed. "Another is the color. Gas is usually yellow or green, diesel tends to be light brown or dyed red. Diesel is thicker than gas, little more like oil. Also, you notice the fumes coming off the gas?" Clem looked closely at the first tub again and noticed the odd vapor just above the liquid.

"Diesel doesn't have that," realized Sarah.

"Nope. That's another way to tell. It's also why we keep gas in these." Ed picked up a gas can. "You want to keep those vapors from escaping. That's why gas cans and gas tanks have air tight lids. You also should keep your diesel the same way. And if you're not going to be using it anytime soon you want this." Ed placed a container of red liquid on the table.

"This here is fuel stabilizer. They have different ones for gas and diesel, so pay attention to the labels, especially since they also tell you how much to use."

"Use for what?" asked Clementine.

"Used for keeping the gas from going bad," explained Ed.

"Gas can go bad?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah. Over time it oxidizes and goes sour," explained Ed. "That's why you need to keep it stored right. If you got some gasoline whose color is off or smells wrong, you probably got bad gas. Bad gas doesn't burn well, if at all."

"But the stabilizer fixes that?" asked Sarah.

"It can prevent that from happening, but it won't fix bad gas."

"But it'll keep good gas from going bad," assumed Clem.

"It'll slow things down, yeah."

"Slow down? So, the gas will go bad eventually anyways?" asked Sarah.

"Well, yeah, gas is pretty complicated stuff. Even if you take care of it, eventually it just goes south. Kinda like food really."

"So, how long until all the gas goes bad for good?" Ed took a breath and scratched his head before turning back to Sarah.

"Couple of years, maybe?" shrugged Ed. "We've been getting shit mileage with the gas we have now. Once we use up what we got we'll probably switch to just all diesel trucks."

"Diesel doesn't go bad?" asked Clem.

"Well, diesel is less refined than gas, so there's less to go wrong with it. But it eventually loses its kick as well."

"How long until that happens?" asked Sarah.

"Well that's harder to tell. I've seen a tractor with ten-year-old fuel still turn over. Of course, one of the first things I did was mix in some fresh diesel because burning decade old diesel isn't good for a vehicle."

"So, eventually, we won't be able to use cars at all," concluded Sarah.

"Not unless someone starts making gas again," said Ed.

"Do you know how to make a gas?" asked Clem.

"No idea, I'm just a mechanic," said Ed. "Still, we're talking years here. By then, we should have a farm going and shouldn't need to do these runs for supplies anymore. But in the meantime, we still need gas and diesel, so the next thing you two need to learn is how to get it." Ed moved away from his work bench and headed towards a rusted car chassis sitting against the wall.

"Now this thing is a junker but it'll work for a demonstration." Ed picked up a couple pieces of clear tubing connected by a red plastic bulge. "This here's a siphon. Run it into a gas tank and squeeze the pump here in the middle to get things going. Also, make sure you put the right end in, or you'll just be blowing air into the gas tank. You don't have this, you can just use clear tubes, suck the gas out to get it going."

"Why clear tubes?" asked Sarah.

"So you can see the gas coming, hopefully give yourself enough of a head start to avoid getting a mouth full of it. If you can't get a tube into the gas tank, you go right for the tank itself." Ed gestured to a jack sitting by the car. "Go head, jack it up."

"Us?" asked Clem. "We're not strong enough to do that."

"Sure you are, just work the handle up and down." Clem and Sarah moved to the jack and grabbed hold of the long handle. Even with Sarah's help, Clem found it difficult to push the handle down, and it also took some effort to pull it back up. After a few pushes Clem noticed the car was starting to move off the ground ever so slightly.

"Wow," awed Clem, surprised that she and Sarah were lifting a car.

"Now of course, siphoning cars is small potatoes, but there's more of them than gas stations, and they're usually easier to get into as well."

"How do you get gas out of a gas station if there's no electricity?" asked Sarah.

"Well, they just keep it in tanks underground. You ever see those little metal lid things at a gas station? The ones that look like small manhole covers?"

"Yeah."

"The gas is down there. Just pop it open and hope for the best. From what I hear, the crew spent a whole day trying to break a damn padlock once and that was the easy part," explained Ed. "They had to spend the whole next day working a hand pump in shifts." Ed looked at the car and moved towards the girls. "Okay, that's enough." Clem let go of the jack. She took a couple of deep breaths and wiped the sweat from her brow, surprised to see how high the back end of the car was off the ground.

"Now, this ain't exactly rocket science," said Ed as he knelt down by the back of the vehicle.

"Gas goes in there, comes down here." Ed pointed to a large flat rectangular section of the car's underside that had several holes in it. "So, just a poke a hole in the tank and get the gas that way." Ed handed Clem a long screwdriver and a hammer. "Go ahead and try it. All the other kids liked doing it."

"Um, isn't this dangerous?" asked Clem as she positioned herself under the gas tank.

"That tank's been empty for a while," assured Ed.

"I mean, if you were getting gas," said Clem. "Couldn't the gas tank, blow up?"

"Nah, gas tanks don't really blow up. Worst that could happen is a spark from the screwdriver might light the whole tank on fire."

"Um, isn't that dangerous?" asked Clem.

"Well, what isn't these days?" shrugged Ed. "But so far, the crew hasn't managed to set any cars on fire." Clem planted the tip of the screwdriver on the gas tank and arched the hammer back. "Of course, that might be because I gave them brass screwdrivers and those are supposed to be spark-proof." Clem found herself wishing Ed hadn't told her that. She hammered the end of the screwdriver, piercing the gas tank.

"See, no big deal." Clem slid out from under the car. "You give it a try." Clem handed the hammer and screwdriver to Sarah, who positioned herself under the car. She struck the screwdriver, creating yet another hole in the tank.

"That's not so hard," said Sarah as she stood up.

"Well it probably helps that thing is a rusted piece of junk," said Ed. "You can also use nails or a drill if you have to." Sarah offered the hammer and screwdriver back to Ed. "Just put the screwdriver in your pocket for now, we're gonna need it for the next lesson," instructed Ed as he took the hammer back.

"What's the next lesson?" asked Sarah as she pocketed the screwdriver.

"Everything else you need to know about taking care of a truck." Ed led Clem and Sarah to a truck with the hood popped open. Ed gestured to a section of the engine. "Now fuel is drawn into these chambers, spark plug makes a spark, ignites the vapors, and that's what drives the pistons, and that what's makes the truck go, more or less. If it's a diesel engine, there won't be a spark plug—"

"Because diesel doesn't have vapors?" Ed smirked at Sarah.

"That's right. On a diesel engine, air is pulled into the chamber, then compressed, which superheats it, then diesel is injected right into the compressed air, and that ignites it. But, that also makes diesel engines harder to start when it's cold out, so—"

"Ed, come back." Ed grabbed his radio.

"Yeah Hec, what is it?"

"Harry's telling me their truck is stalled outside Saint Christopher's and he was wondering if you knew what it could be," explained Hector.

"What's the problem?" asked Ed.

"I don't know, that's why he wants to talk to you about it," explained Hector.

"All right, I'll switch to their channel." Ed turned back to the girls. "Just take five, I gotta handle this." Ed fiddled with the radio as he walked away from the pair. Sarah sat down on the truck's front bumper and sighed.

"You okay?" asked Clem as she sat next to her.

"Yeah, it's just…"

"What?"

"My dad," answered Sarah. "For a long time he said this place was safe, but I could never leave my room. Now he says it's not safe, but things look okay."

"They do?" asked Clementine.

"Well, not okay. It's really scary that they won't feed us if we mess up, and that people can die because of it, and some of the people are just scary themselves. But if things were better before Mr. Carver changed, why didn't my dad want me to leave my room then, when they always fed me? Has he told you anything?"

"He told me and Christa not to believe anything Bill says," said Clementine.

"Do you always call your mom by her first name?"

"Um, yeah, pretty much."

"Why?"

"It's just… how we like it," shrugged Clem. "Do you know what Bill was like before you left?"

"Not really, I never actually met him. He made announcements almost every morning, and he made a speech at Thanksgiving. That's about all I saw of him. Maybe if my dad had let me leave my room more I would know," suggested Sarah in a bitter tone.

"You never snuck out? Just to see what was happening?"

"I did a couple of times, not long after we got our own room. Then my dad found out and he got really angry at me. Like, angrier than I had ever seen him," recounted a nervous Sarah. "He told me he was sorry afterwards, but I didn't want to get yelled at again, so I just stayed in my room."

"I hate it when grown-ups yell. And I really hate it when they tell me I'm a kid. Like them being grown-up makes them better."

"I'm sorry Nick got mad at you, but I wish you didn't swear at him."

"He started it."

"I know. I wish he didn't swear at you too."

"They're just words Sarah."

"Everything Bridget says is just words, and she always makes me feel bad."

"Do I make you feel bad when I swear?" asked Clem, worried she had been upsetting Sarah unknowingly.

"I don't feel bad, but it does worry me sometimes," confessed Sarah. "You sounded so angry when you called Bridget, well, you know. And you sounded angry at lunch today when you swore at Nick."

"I was angry," admitted Clem.

"I guess that's what worries me."

"You're not angry?"

"I'm scared, and worried, but I'm not really mad right now."

"Well I am," admitted Clementine. "I know life's not always fair, but you think it would be fair at least some of the time. Things keep getting worse, and there's never anything I can do about it."

"Well, I feel better, because of you," said Sarah in a friendly voice. "So that's something you did."

"That's not much," noted a dreary Clem.

"Well, it's a lot to me." Seeing the look of confusion and desperation on the older girl's face, Clem edged a little closer and placed her hand on top of Sarah's.

"Maybe I could do more?" Clementine smiled as she felt Sarah hold her hand.


	46. All Good Things

"That was really cool," said Sarah.

"Really? I thought it was kinda boring," shrugged Clementine.

"You didn't think it was interesting how the truck works?"

"Not really. I kinda lost track of what he was saying when he started talking about the fuel filters."

"So, you didn't hear the part about him teaching the class how to drive the day after tomorrow?" teased Sarah.

"No, I heard that," assured an eager Clem. "I can't wait to try that."

"Yeah, that's gonna be so cool. I wonder—"

"Hey! How bout you two chatterboxes give it a rest for the night?" griped Richard, the bearded middle-aged man escorting them to the pen.

"I'm sorry," apologized Sarah.

"Don't be sorry, be quiet already," ordered Richard in a biting tone. "You damn kids going on about every stupid little thing. Not enough we have to feed you and hold your damn hands, I gotta listen to your mindless prattling on too?" Clem thought back to something Byron told her and realized he was right; this guy was a dick. As they neared the pen, Clem tensed up as she noticed Consuelo's face in the dim lantern light.

"Here, these two gossips are your problem now," grumbled Richard as he left Clem and Sarah in front of Consuelo. "You deal with them."

"I got it, Dick." Consuelo stood up and approached the girls, her hateful stare cutting right through Clem, filling her with terror. "Well shithead, you gonna put your arms out or am I gonna have to do that for you?" Clem held her arms out and immediately felt Consuelo's hands on her. Her grip was so tight it was actually painful, as if the woman was trying to stab Clem with her fingertips.

"Seeing as I only have one thumb, I'm thinking you'd better turn around so I can check you from behind." Clem reluctantly turned around and once again felt Consuelo's forceful grip digging into her sides. As she was searched again, Clem looked over at Sarah, who was clearly disturbed by what was happening. Consuelo snatched Clem's hat off her head. Turning around, Clem saw the woman looking inside it.

"Well, I guess you're clean," concluded Consuelo in a spiteful tone. "Except for that spot on your face."

"What—" Consuelo spit on Clementine, causing the small girl to flinch as the disgusting phlegm hit her face.

"Why are you—" Consuelo turned to Sarah in a flash, paralyzing the girl with her gaze.

"Clean yourself up you piece of shit." Consuelo tossed Clem's hat at the girl as hard as she could. "And you." Consuelo gestured at Sarah. "Get over here." A very nervous Sarah stepped forward and held her arms out. Clem watched in disgust as Consuelo's hands moved down Sarah's sides. "Wait, what the fuck is this?" Consuelo stuck her hand into Sarah's pocket and pulled out a screwdriver.

"Oh, Ed gave me—"

"He gave you this?" repeated an angry Consuelo as she brandished the screwdriver in front of Sarah's face.

"I mean, he told me to hold it for him and—ah!" Consuelo grabbed Sarah's hair and pulled her closer.

"I don't want your excuses you thieving beaner!"

"She didn't steal it! He just—" Something that felt like a brick dropped right on top of Clem's head, knocking her painfully into the ground.

"Clementine! Don't—ah!" Clem heard Sarah cry out in pain.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Clem heard Christa yell as she tried to stand up.

"You unhand her!" demanded Carlos. "Or—"

"You fucks say another word and this will just be the opening act for a whole goddamn show involving these two fucking shits!" Clem watched as the gate swung open. Her vision was blurry but she could see what she was fairly sure was Carlos and Christa. "Get in there!" Clem felt a pair of hands hurl through the gate and back onto the ground. She heard Sarah hit the ground right next to her, howling in pain. Clem then felt another set of hands, helping her to her feet.

"The fuck is this? You want some too!" Clem could see well enough to find Adam angrily staring at Consuelo. "Back the fuck off you ginger flaked freak!" Consuelo pulled a pistol from her belt and aimed it at Adam, whose angry gaze immediately changed to a look of fright. He started backing away until hitting the corner, where he slid down the wall, trembling the entire way.

"I don't want to hear another fucking word out of here!" Consuelo slammed the gate shut and locked the latch.

"Just sit down you two." Clem could feel Christa guiding her to one of the beds.

"Here, let me look at them." Carlos removed Clem's hat.

"Jesus, she's bleeding," commented Nick.

"It's not deep," said Carlos. "How do you feel?"

"Dizzy," mumbled Clem as she rubbed the top of her head.

"You might have a concussion," informed Carlos. "Lie back, rest." Clem lay down on the bed.

"Wait, if she has a concussion, that means she can't fall asleep," realized a panicked Nick.

"That's a myth," said Carlos. "And a terrible one. Rest helps if you have a concussion."

"You're sure?" asked Nick.

"He's a doctor," reminded Christa.

"Sarah, just hold still for a moment." Clem could hear Sarah whimpering.

"Okay, just lie down sweetheart. It's okay, it's over now." Clem looked over to see Sarah lying on the bed next to her, a painful red mark on her cheek.

"Damn," awed Matt. "She really doesn't like you two."

"Leave us," ordered Carlos.

"Everyone back up," insisted Christa. "Give them a little space."

Sarah turned her head and saw Clem looking at her. "I'm so sorry Clementine," she sobbed.

"It's not your fault," assured Clem in a weak voice.

"Yes it is. I forgot to give the screwdriver back to Ed and got us both in trouble," said Sarah. "It's all my fault she hit you."

"No it's not." Clem started rubbing her head, trying to ease the throbbing feeling. "Dammit," she mumbled to herself. "What did she hit me with?"

"The screwdriver," said Sarah. "She hit you with the handle."

"And she slapped you, didn't she?" Sarah nodded at Clem. "She hits really hard."

"Yeah, she does," sobbed Sarah. "I… I wish I was brave like you. You don't cry when people hit you."

"I just wish people didn't hit us," confessed Clem.

"About fucking time!" Clem sat up to see what Consuelo was yelling about. Her vision had cleared and she could see Walter and Byron approaching the gate. "Wait, what the fuck is with the backpack?" Clem moved closer to the gate, along with most of the pen's inhabitants.

"He's not going in there," Byron informed Consuelo.

"Then what the fuck is he doing here?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye," explained a somber Walter.

"Goodbye?"

"Bill said he could leave." Byron's explanation surprised everyone, especially Consuelo.

"I don't know what the fuck you're trying to pull you fucking drop out dickhead but I'm getting to the bottom of it right now." Consuelo grabbed her radio and twisted one of the knobs. "Bill!"

"What's up Connie?"

"Byron here is telling me that you're letting that bald fuck go."

"That's right," confirmed Bill in a cheerful voice.

"Yeah… wait, what?" Consuelo seemed dumbfounded by Bill's answer.

"Me and him got to talking, and he made some good points. Between that, the 'donation' we got from his place, and how he feels about staying here, and it just seemed like it was in everyone's best interests to let him go."

"No fucking way," grumbled Mick as he approached the gate. "He gets to leave?"

"He just got here!" exclaimed Matt.

"Shut the fuck up," hissed Consuelo.

"Connie, why don't you go get Edmund and bring out supper?" suggested Bill. "Give everyone a little space before he goes."

"But…" Everyone watched as an infuriated Consuelo marched off mumbling to herself, leaving Walter to talk to the others through the fence.

"Walter, listen to me," said Carlos. "Don't go."

"I will admit, I do feel like I'm abandoning all of you," confessed a guilt-ridden Walter.

"You've got nothing to apologize for Walter," assured Christa. "In fact, I don't think we could ever repay you for what you did for us."

"Get out while you can. Before Bill changes his mind," urged Nick. "Nobody's going to blame you for that."

"Speak for yourself," said Mick.

"Yeah, really," added Matt. "He's ditching us."

"I'm sorry," said Walter. "I talked to Bill for a while about the rest of you. He said he'd talk to you about your baby sometime in the next few days," Walter told Christa. "I want to tell myself I did some good before leaving, but the truth is I just can't stop thinking about Matthew, out there, looking for me."

"You don't have to explain yourself," assured Christa.

"Walter, please, don't go," begged a worried Carlos. "I understand why you want to leave, but…" Carlos eyed Byron. "You're safer in here, than out there."

"But I thought you said it wasn't safe here anymore?" asked a confused Sarah.

"Not for all of us, but…" Carlos struggled to find the words. "Just don't leave now, at night, please."

"We gave him food, water and a flashlight," informed Byron. "He'll be all right."

"I'm sorry Carlos, but I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if I passed up a chance to see Matthew again. He might even need me and the longer I wait the more likely something will happen to him," explained Walter. "If you hate me for that I'd understand."

"No, I don't hate you. You were kind to me and my daughter and you… you stopped me from making a terrible mistake. It's just…" Carlos looked towards Byron, then back to Walter. "Just, be careful. Protect yourself." Clem watched Byron closely, noticing the distressed look on the young man's face.

"I'll be careful," assured Walter.

"Goodbye Walter," said Sarah. "I'll miss you."

"Me too," added Clementine. "I hope you find Matthew."

"Come on," urged Byron. "I'll show you to the highway. After that you're on your own."

"If we meet again someday, remember, my door is always open, wherever that happens to be," said Walter with a smile.

"Still?" smirked Christa.

"Even after what happened with us?" asked Nick in disbelief.

"What we leave behind isn't as important as how we live," proclaimed Walter. "Sharing the lodge with all of you that night was worth far more to me than everything in it."

"Before I went to sleep, that was like the best day ever," said Sarah with a smile.

"Yeah, everything felt right," realized a tearful Clem.

"All right, come on," prodded Byron. "Let's get this over with." Clem watched as Walter left with Byron, passing Consuelo and Edmund coming the other way.

"So long asshole," she exclaimed in an oddly cheerful manner. "Enjoy getting eaten alive. You too Byron. I sincerely hope something rips your fucking throat out." Consuelo undid the latch and allowed Edmund to push his cart inside. Adam sprang to the front of the line, getting his dinner and water, then immediately rushing off to devour it. As Clem and Sarah reached the cart, Edmund handed them their water, and nothing else.

"Where's our dinner?" asked a confused Sarah.

"You two aren't getting any tonight," informed an excited Consuelo.

"What!" exclaimed Carlos.

"Why not?" asked Christa.

"What, I gotta spell it out for you?" asked Consuelo. "They stole a screwdriver and tried to smuggle it back in here."

"We didn't steal anything," insisted Clem. "Sarah just forgot to give it back."

"And Clementine didn't even do anything," insisted a guilt-ridden Sarah. "It's my fault."

"You both knew about it, and if you forgot to 'give it back' then you're both incompetent instead of thieves, and that's no better."

"This is absurd!" exclaimed Carlos.

"You're forcing them to skip a meal for an innocent mistake?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"Innocent mistakes are still mistakes," smirked Consuelo. "And they're not skipping a meal, they're skipping two."

"What?" asked Sarah.

"Hope lunch is good tomorrow, because you're not eating before then," informed Consuelo with a smile.

"I don't have to stand for this!" insisted Carlos.

"Oh yes you do!" barked Consuelo as she put her hand on her gun. "And if any of you try anything it'll be the pair of them that suffers. I'm in charge here."

"I thought Bill was in charge here," retorted Christa. "Does he approve of this?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask him next time you see him?" suggested a smug Consuelo. "Until then, this is what's happening. And there's nothing you can do about it." Carlos looked at Sarah and Clementine, then down at the bowl he was holding. "Don't even think about it. You give them that and they'll go hungry a lot longer than they're going to right now." Carlos glared at Consuelo, then thrust the bowl into her arms.

"If my daughter doesn't eat, then neither do I," insisted Carlos.

"Oh, wow, you really showed me," quipped Consuelo.

"I'm not eating either," declared Christa as she dropped the bowl back onto the cart.

"Christa no," said Clem. "You're—"

"No, I'm sick of this shit," she snarled. "If you want us doing your bitch work, then you can feed all of us."

"Oh, I don't know, it looks like we've got plenty of takers left," noted Consuelo as Adam returned his empty bowl and cup. "That's unless anyone else feels like going hungry tonight?" Mick and Matt started eating faster. "What about you string bean? You got something to say?" Nick glared at Consuelo. She smiled as he stood up and approached the cart. "Oh, good, thirds is coming my way." Nick cleared his throat and spit into the bowl.

"Eat that you hateful bitch." Nick shoved the bowl into her arms.

"I will!" she exclaimed with a smile. "Well, looks like dinner's already over. So, toss your cups onto the cart and I'm going home to enjoy a feast." Everyone returned their empty cups and Mick and Matt put their bowls back on the cart. Consuelo bolted the gate shut and reached for the lantern. "Sleep tight kiddies!"

"I'm… I'm so sorry dad," sobbed Sarah.

"Don't be sweetheart," assured Carlos. "You didn't do anything wrong." Everyone moved through the dark and found their way into a bed. Clementine watched as Sarah took off her shoes and glasses.

"Um, Sarah?" asked Clem in a nervous voice.

"Yeah?" she answered.

"You… you're not scared, are you?" asked Clem.

"Yeah," she answered in a dispirited voice.

"You want to sleep in my bed again?" suggested a hopeful Clem.

"No, I'll be okay," assured a weary Sarah as she lay down.

"Oh," spoke a disappointed Clementine. "You sure?"

"Do you want me to sleep in your bed?"

"No, I'm fine," insisted an embarrassed Clementine as she rolled over so Sarah wouldn't see her. Clem started pulling on her dingy blanket, when she felt something tap her on the shoulder. Rolling over, she saw Sarah standing over the bed.

"You sure?" Clem found herself too embarrassed to answer, but felt relieved when Sarah lay down on the other side of the bed. She pulled the covers over both of them and even in the darkness, Clem could see a smile on Sarah's face.

"Thanks Sarah," spoke a timid Clem.

"If you were scared, you could have just told me," assured Sarah.

"I'm not scared," insisted Clem. "I'm just… lonely."

"You could have just told me that then," assured Sarah in a friendly voice. "I'd understand."

"I guess I was embarrassed," confessed Clem. "With everything that's happened, me being lonely isn't important."

"Yes it is," insisted Sarah. "And, again, I'm sorry about what happened."

"I told you, that wasn't your fault," reassured Clem. "And even if it was, she didn't need to hit us."

"I don't understand why people have to be so mean," said Sarah. "Even when I get really mad, I never want to hurt anyone."

"Never?" asked Clem.

"No," answered Sarah. "Do you?" Clem paused to think about how to answer that question.

"Yeah…" she admitted in an ashamed voice. "Not a lot, but, there's been a few times I was so mad I did want to hurt someone."

"Oh…" Clem felt alone in the brief quiet that followed Sarah's surprise. "I… I guess I'm just different."

"Or maybe you've never been mad enough to want to hurt someone."

"I hope I never get that mad."

"I hope you don't either. Because the only times I ever felt that mad was when something really horrible happened."


	47. Whispers in the Dark

Clem felt a strong hand grasping her mouth. Before she could react she heard a familiar voice in her ear.

"It's me." Clem slowly sat up to find Christa standing near her bed.

"What's going on?" Clem saw it was still dark out, but there was enough moonlight shining through the fence to look around.

"Carlos wants to talk," whispered Christa.

"To me?" asked Clem.

"Yeah, and Nick." Clem looked over at a still sleeping Sarah. "Carlos said just let her sleep." Clem carefully got out of bed and walked with Christa across the pen. Clem saw Matt and Mick were still sleeping as well, and near the bathroom she spotted Nick and Carlos sitting on the floor.

"Okay, she's up," whispered Christa as she sat down. "Now what did you want to talk about?"

"We need to get out of this place," said Carlos. "And soon."

"Ya think?" retorted a sarcastic Christa.

"I might know a way," said Carlos. "But, it involves her."

"Her?" asked Nick.

"No way," insisted Christa. "She's gone through enough because of you people."

"Christa," scolded Clem.

"She'll go through worse yet if she doesn't get out of here," assured Carlos. "You saw what happened tonight, you can't possibly want to stay here."

"Of course not," said Christa. "I've only been here a few days and I hate this place."

"Then what choice do we have?" asked Carlos.

"You mean what choice do you have?" retorted Christa.

"Christa, stop it," insisted Clem. "Fighting isn't going to help."

"I'm not fighting Clem. And this isn't about what happened before," spoke Christa in a calm voice.

"Then what?" asked Carlos.

"The way I see it, you two have a history will this Bill guy, we don't," said Christa. "We don't have anything he wants, we haven't done anything to him. Why should I risk Clem's life when it's possible he may just let us go?"

"He won't let you go," stated Carlos in a certain voice. "We tried to leave, and look at what happened to us."

"That's another thing I'm wondering about. You people didn't live in this pen place before you left, right?" Carlos didn't answer. "So why did you escape then? And don't tell me it was because you were outraged at how they treat people in here, because I'm not buying that."

"Fuck you," said Nick in a hushed voice. "You don't know how we feel, what it was like watching—" Carlos gestured for Nick to stop.

"Pete and I decided to leave when we did because Carver had become tired of feeding people he considered drains on Shaffer's."

"Wasn't he already doing that?" asked Christa. "Listening to people talk around here, it sounds like it's been that way for a while."

"No, not like this. Now they feed you if you can keep working. But Carver wanted to phase out the pen. There'd be no prisoners to care for anymore. Nor family members of residents. Either you work for the crew, you had some other useful skill, or you're dead. Gene devised the school to help transition the children into the crew. Once their classes are done, they'll graduate to doing supply runs.

"They're not teaching them how to survive, they're training child soldiers to fight for Carver. And the ones who aren't capable will simply die, which knowing Carver, he'll champion as brave heroes who gave everything because they believed in Shaffer's future."

"Are… are you fucking serious?" asked a shocked Nick. "You and Pete both knew this, and you never told me?"

"Pete thought you might not leave if you knew," spoke Carlos.

"And what about everybody else?" asked an angry Nick. "You just want to leave without telling any of them what Bill's planning?"

"If we told anyone, we'd end up like Walter," reasoned Carlos.

"They'd let you go?" asked Clementine.

"Walter is dead," stated Carlos.

"How do you know?" asked Christa.

"Carver hasn't let anyone leave since the wall was finished," informed Carlos. "He no doubt sent Byron along so he could kill Walter once he was outside the wall."

"And you didn't fucking tell him?" asked an angry Nick.

"If I did I would be next," said Carlos. "And he'd still be dead."

"I don't think Byron would kill Walter," argued Clem.

"The fucking asshole killed Pete," reminded Nick.

"He said he wouldn't have if he didn't have to," said Clem.

"He didn't have to!" growled Nick.

"Quiet," ordered Carlos. "If Carver told Byron he had to kill Walter, what do you think he would do?" Clem wanted to say something, but the only answers she could think of just upset her.

"Now hold up," said Christa. "You said Bill never let someone leave before? Then why bother saying he'd let Walter go? Why not just starve him like that woman?"

"He must realize how restless everyone is, especially us. It had to be a ploy to get us to think he'd actually listen to reason," suggested Carlos.

"So you don't know then," concluded Christa.

"I know this man," insisted Carlos.

"Yeah, but I don't know you," retorted Christa. "And you haven't exactly given me much of a reason to trust you."

"Me neither," added Nick.

"So you two are going to trust Carver?" asked an annoyed Carlos.

"As of right now, I don't trust either of you," said Christa. "This stuff about getting rid of everyone and training the kids to be soldiers, how is it you and Pete know that and no one else?"

"Yeah?" said Nick.

"Pete knew Carver was sick of wasting time and food on anyone stuck in the pen. Things have settled since we first came here and we don't need a lot of physical labor anymore. Pete figured since the crew always had to supervise people from the pen, that Carver would eventually phase them out and let the crew handle their daily duties instead.

"And I knew Carver valued me less as the crew became more efficient at scavenging ,and injuries became less common. I actually thought he'd ask me to join the crew myself to justify feeding Sarah, but instead, Gene told me he wanted Sarah to participate in his school. He said it was going to help all the youngest members of Shaffer's find their place in the community.

"Talking to each other, Pete and I realized that Carver was just slowly weeding out anyone he didn't consider essential, and we both had people we cared about that he'd probably never consider essential, so we thought it was time to leave."

"I don't know, a lot of this seems to depend on me taking you and Pete at your word," said Christa.

"Pete ran supply runs more than anyone, and I've been here since the beginning," said Carlos. "We would know."

"If they just want us to be a part of the crew, why are we learning about other stuff?" asked Clementine. "Like the chickens and history?"

"It's probably just a way to sell the rest of the community on it. Maybe he's seeing if any of you could replace some of the other residents here someday," reasoned Carlos.

"You know what I think?" asked Christa. "I think you know that Bill won't let you go because of whatever you did here before. So now you're trying to get us to help you escape, even though me and her may still go free."

"You truly think Carver will just let you go?" asked Carlos in disbelief. "Out of the goodness of his heart?"

"The goodness of his heart? No. But to be rid of two more mouths he doesn't want to feed? That seems like the practical solution," reasoned Christa.

"The practical solution would be to kill you," reminded Carlos.

"Then why hasn't he done it already?"

"Why did he bring you here if he was going to let you go?"

"The way I see it, trying to escape with you is a bigger risk than taking our chances with Bill right now."

"Only because you don't know Carver."

"And I don't know you either."

"Christa, I think we should listen to Carlos," said Clem.

"Really?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"I don't like Bill," said Clementine.

"But you like Carlos?" asked Christa.

"Not really, but Carlos never pretended like he wanted to help us when he didn't," explained Clem. "Bill says all this stuff and acts nice, but he never actually does anything to help anyone, even though he could. He could have let that woman have food if he wanted to, but he didn't."

"Yes, exactly," said Carlos. "Just look at what happened earlier tonight."

"That looked like Consuelo acting out to me," said Christa.

"Consuelo is probably closer to Carver than anyone," informed Carlos.

"Byron says she's Bill's pet," added Clem.

"I'm sure he told her to take away Sarah and Clem's meals. He's always had others do his dirty work. Like George, or Byron earlier tonight."

"Or you when you used to live here?" Carlos didn't answer Christa. "What about Pete?"

"Pete wouldn't do anything like that." Nick turned to Carlos. "Right?" A look of shock spread across Nick's face as Carlos remained silent.

"There's a reason he never wanted you to join the crew." Nick looked away from Carlos, shocked at what he just said. "It's the same reason we all need to get away as soon as possible."

"I don't know," said Christa. "You're still asking me to take your word for most of this."

"I think we should do it," said Clem. "I don't like it here."

"I don't either Clem," said Christa. "I'm just not sure this is the best way to get out."

"If Bill lets us go, we'd have to leave Sarah behind," realized Clem. "I don't want to do that."

"I don't either, but you've got to ask yourself is Sarah worth risking our lives for," said Christa.

"I think she is," said Clem. "If she hadn't brought me the first aid kit, you would have never fixed my arm that night."

"Wait, she did what?" asked a surprised Carlos.

"That's what you meant when you said you had help," realized Christa.

"I can't believe she'd do something like that without telling me," Carlos mumbled to himself. "That's not like her."

"She didn't want you to get mad at her," said Clementine. "Please don't tell her I told you that."

Carlos sighed. "Look, you don't trust me, but you know by now I will do anything to protect Sarah. So, help us escape, and I'll help you with your baby."

"You will?" asked Christa.

"It'd be a much smaller price to pay than the one I paid to stay here before," assured Carlos. "And, I know Sarah would be safer with both of you than she would be here."

"Christa, even if we did get to leave, do you really think just you and me can take care of your baby, alone?" asked Clem.

"We could if we had to Clem," insisted Christa. "But… it would be hard, and it would better if we had some help."

"So, we have a deal?" asked Carlos.

"Not so fast," said Christa. "Let's say we do this, and we don't get killed on our way out, then what? As much as I don't like it here, it's not exactly easy out there either. And if these people have been looting everything in the area, they probably haven't left much for us to use."

"That's where he comes in." Carlos turned to Nick. "Pete was storing things for us up in Springfield during his supply runs, for when we eventually escaped. Pete suspected George or Carver knew, but he doubted they actually found the supplies themselves.

"It's probably why they didn't come after us for a few days, they were expecting us to come to Springfield for those supplies, but they didn't know where to look for them. But Pete told you where they are, didn't he?" Nick didn't answer. "If we get out, you could take us to them." Nick looked away.

"Jesus, what's your problem?" asked Christa. "You know where there are supplies that'll help us and you won't even tell us where they are?"

"What's the point?" mumbled Nick.

"Point is we'll have things we need when we leave," answered Christa.

"And then what?" asked Nick.

"Pete was always thorough," reasoned Carlos. "I'm sure he left us enough to get somewhere far away from Shaffer's."

"Then what?" repeated a despondent Nick. "We go somewhere else, and then what happens? Everyone I ever grew up with is dead. Then I came here with Pete and now he's dead. We go somewhere else and it'll just happen again, until eventually we're all dead."

"Well I'd rather have it happen out there than in here," snarled Carlos. "Where I'll be forced to watch my daughter be beaten and starved before being sent off to die to horde more goods for the same man who's holding us prisoner."

"You killed the father of my child," hissed Christa. "The very least you could do now is tell us where there might be something to help keep his baby alive." Nick looked away, clearly disturbed by Christa's comment.

"Nick, if you think we're going to die anyways, then why not just tell us?" asked Clementine. "Everyone I grew up with is dead too. So are a lot of other people I met after that. And it might happen again, but if you tell us where this stuff is, maybe it won't this time."

"It will," asserted Nick in a certain tone.

"I don't think Pete thought it would," argued Clem.

"And he's dead now," reminded a bitter Nick.

"And back in the woods he told you to do something if that happened," reminded Clem. "Was it to take us to this stuff he found for everybody?"

Nick sighed. "If we get out, I'll show you where Pete stashed his supplies, but that's it," said Nick. "It was Pete's plan, I don't know what he wanted to do after that."

"So where are they?" asked Carlos.

"I'll show you where they are if we get out," repeated Nick.

"Pete told you—"

"Pete also told me to keep it to myself until we were there," snapped Nick. "In case you decided to ditch me the second you knew where to look."

"This is stupid," said Christa. "What if something happens to you then? Or what if we get separated when we get out of here? How are the rest of us even going to know where to go?"

Nick thought about Christa's question. "Saint Christopher's," he answered.

"That's where the supplies are?" asked Carlos.

"No, but if we get split up, we can meet there," said Nick. "It's a huge church right at the edge of Springfield. You just follow the highway north for ten miles and you can't miss it. Once we're there, I could take you to what Pete hid for us."

"Ten miles is a lot of walking, but if it means I'll never have to see this place again, I suppose I could manage." Christa turned to Carlos. "So, what's the plan?"

"They're doing another supply run tomorrow, so when they get back, we take their truck and head right for Springfield for the supplies, then as far away from here as possible," explained Carlos.

"That doesn't seem like much of a plan," commented Christa. "How do you know their truck will even be waiting for us?"

"Because they always come back before six o'clock, which is usually the same time they feed us dinner. Carver gave everyone on the crew watches so they could keep to his schedules. They don't eat until after they finish off-loading the truck either, so it should be there with the keys in it, and maybe even what they took for the day as well," explained Carlos.

"They're not going to let us just take a truck," reminded Nick. "And how the hell are we supposed to get out of here in the first place?"

"We get a couple of guns and when dinner comes, we shoot the guard and take his gun and radio. The shot will cause everyone else to report in, and then we'll know where they are. The three of us shoot whoever is at the truck, then we leave before the rest of them figure out what happened."

"What about Mick and Matt?" asked Clem. "And Adam?"

"I doubt they have any loyalty to Carver. If they can keep up they can try and leave with us, but we shouldn't wait for them, and definitely don't tell them about any of this," insisted Carlos. "One of them might tell Carver as a way to get favor with him."

"Like Edmund?" Carlos nodded at Clem.

"And don't tell Sarah either," said Carlos. "Just before we leave, I'll tell her what we're going to do, but I don't want her worrying about this until then."

"We should tell her too," insisted Clem.

"No," stated Carlos. "She's suffered enough as it is. I don't want to risk worrying her any more than absolutely necessary. If she knew now it'd be all she thinks about until we left."

"But…"

"Clem, the less people who know about this, the better," said Christa.

"I… I guess so," conceded an unhappy Clementine.

"You're her best friend. I want you to stay close to her when we escape. Help her keep moving forward," instructed Carlos. "Nick, Christa and I will have to focus on fighting the crew if they are still at the truck."

"Yeah, about that, you still haven't told us how we're going to get guns," noted Christa.

"That's the other thing Clementine needs to do," said Carlos.

"She has to get the guns? Why?"

Carlos stood up and pulled the bathroom door open. "There." Carlos pointed to the tear in the fence the chute stuck out of. "If Nick and I can pry it open a little further, she can slip out. They keep the guns in a container next the warehouse. It's right around the corner."

"I know where that is," said Clem.

"Then you know about the windows on the ceiling they open during the day," said Carlos. "If you can slip out through there, you could definitely fit through one of them to get inside."

"Wait, if she can get out, why not just unlock the door to the pen and walk out right now?" suggested Christa.

"They block the gate with a truck at night," explained Carlos. "Even if we found the keys, the noise would bring everyone to us before we could even get the gates open."

"Well isn't there another way out of this place other than the main gate?" Carlos just stared at Christa. "Jesus."

"It's like Walter said, this place is a prison," realized Clementine.

"How'd you get out last time?" asked Christa.

"Pete used his leg as an excuse to bring Sarah and I with him when he went to check traps one morning with Nick," said Carlos. "And even then, Carver was only one step behind us. We could tell from the radio chatter that something had happened shortly after leaving, and they would be coming after us."

"Maude said Felicity didn't report you guys leaving," explained Christa. "Was she in on your first escape?"

"No, she simply trusted Pete enough to probably think it was not worth reporting," answered Carlos. "Considering how fast they discovered something was wrong, Carver must have known something about Pete's plans before we left that morning. Had she reported in, Carver may have been ready to stop us at the gate."

"We ended up right back here anyway," noted Nick. "And we got her killed for nothing."

"Carver killed Felicity, not us," stated Carlos. "That's why we need to leave, and soon. Carver has ears everywhere, and the longer we stay, the more likely one of them will hear something."

"I don't like this," said Christa. "If they catch Clem while she's trying to steal guns, what will they do to her? Would they starve her like Felicity?" Carlos took a deep breath. "Worse? What did they do to you two on the first day?" Carlos and Nick looked at each other, a pained expression on both their faces.

"George worked us all day," said Carlos in a weak voice.

"That's it?" asked an underwhelmed Christa.

"You have no idea—" Carlos grabbed Nick, trying to calm him.

"When I say all day, I mean all day," explained Carlos in a trembling voice. "We were not given anything to eat or drink, and he was there, the whole time, forcing us to work, nonstop."

"What kind of work?" asked Christa.

"Just nonsense. He told us to dig some holes to bury some lurkers. And when we finished that he told us they were in the wrong spot. So we had to dig new holes ten feet away, dig up the lurkers we just buried, and bury them over there. And then—"

"He just wouldn't stop…" sniveled Nick.

"And if we stopped he had this pillow case full of tennis balls he'd start hitting us with."

"Why that?" asked a disturbed Clementine.

"It doesn't leave bruises, usually," explained Carlos.

"But he still swings it hard enough for it to hurt like hell," added a shaking Nick.

"Nick passed out at one point, and when he came to, George just kept hitting him until he started digging again," recounted a frightened Carlos.

"Jesus Christ," Christa whispered to herself.

"And if one of us had died, it had just been another tragic accident," lamented Carlos. "And at the end of the day, George told us if we told anyone what happened, we'd do it all again the next day."

"So for the love of God, don't tell anyone," pleaded a desperate Nick.

"And the people living here are just okay with this?" asked Christa.

"They don't know, or at this point they probably just don't want to know," shrugged Carlos.

"I used to think he was just making them chop extra wood or something all day," Nick said to himself. "But he was just torturing them."

"And even the ones who do know don't speak up about it, because it'll make you a target for Carver, like it did for Walter."

"But, they wouldn't do that to Clementine, would they?" asked Christa. "They didn't make Sarah do that, so—"

"I honestly don't know," said Carlos. "I'd like to think they didn't torture Sarah too because she's young, but really it may have just been because they knew she couldn't have had anything to do with us deciding to escape. Or, it's possible they want her for something else."

"God, what did you people get us into?" asked a flustered Christa.

"I know you're scared of what happens if she gets caught, but believe me, we're all at risk as long as we stay here."

"I'll do it," declared Clem.

"Clem, you don't—"

"I don't want to live here. I think Walter is right. I don't think they would take care of a baby. Or me and Sarah."

"This is your choice," conceded Christa. "If this is what you want, we'll do it." Clem nodded.

"All right, let's go." Nick and Carlos positioned themselves by the tear in the fence. "Try to get us at least two pistols, and don't forget to load them. Byron doesn't store loaded guns."

"Okay," said Clem.

"And you might want to take off your hat," suggested Nick.

"What for?" asked Clem.

"That day outside the cabin, I knew you were behind the tree because I saw the brim poking out." Clem sighed and handed her hat to Christa.

"It'll be right here when you get back," assured Christa. Nick and Carlos pulled on the tear, widening it slightly. Clem moved her arms through the opening and tried to pull her head through. She pushed against the metal with her forehead to the point of being painful until finally it bent just enough to allow her head to poke through.

She pulled herself forward, then felt someone grab her legs and carefully push her through the opening. Clem planted her hands on the ground as she leaned through the opening. She pulled one of her legs through, then lost her balance as she moved the other one. She rolled onto her side in a relatively painless manner.

"You okay?" whispered Christa through the fence.

"Fine," Clem whispered back.

"If you can't get the guns, come right back."

"I will." Clem took a moment to survey her surroundings. Directly next to her she saw the chute emptied into a large metal tub on an industrial cart. The smell alone was enough to convince Clem not to look in it. After seeing no one was around, Clem moved to the side of the building and peeked past the corner. In the pale moonlight, she could see the gun container in the distance. She also saw smoke coming out of some of the chimneys on the containers behind it.

A sick feeling gripped Clem in the pit of her stomach as she crept forward, terrified she'd be spotted. The small girl moved to the door of the armory and briefly checked again to see if anyone was around. The door was padlocked, but running up it were some metal rods. Clem grabbed onto the rod and put her foot in one of the indentations on the container. With some effort she pulled herself up and grabbed hold of another rod. Using the rods and indentations, Clem was able to scale on top of the container with more than a bit of effort.

Now on top, Clem crawled across the top of the container to the nearest window. Looking at it from the outside, Clem could see the slabs of metal that covered the windows were held to the container with some kind of hinge that had been welded onto the metal. And upon opening one she found a small loop welded onto the inside, presumably so you could use a broom to pull it closed. There also was a rubber-like material around the edge, making the piece bigger than the opening it covered.

Looking down the nearest window, Clem could barely see the floor about eight feet below. Realizing she couldn't get back out through this hole, Clem closed it and moved to the other end of the container. Opening the last window, she saw the gun locker right underneath. Remembering the shorter safe next to it, Clem reasoned she could climb back out through this hole by using them as stepping stones.

Clem lowered herself through the hole, making contact with the locker below. Despite Carlos's certainty she could fit through the windows, she found herself having a little trouble getting her shoulders through the opening. She had to twist her body at an odd angle to slip one shoulder through, then carefully guided her other arm and head through the opening.

Climbing down into the armory, Clem was able to see a selection of pistols laid out on the table in the small bit of moonlight the window allowed in. Clem grabbed the pistol closest to her and brought it into the direct light near the gun lockers. It was a black gun with a fairly ornate gold design painted on it. Sliding the magazine out, Clem confirmed it had no bullets. She then pulled back on the slide to confirm there wasn't a round in the chamber.

Clem opened the locker. She quickly located several tubs of bullets on the bottom shelf, but not the right type. Opening the other locker door to see the whole shelf revealed a couple of tubs that contained what looked like the right ammunition. Clem took a couple of bullets and loaded them into the magazine. They seemed to fit fine, so she kept loading until the magazine was full, then loaded it back into the gun. Clem checked to make sure the gun's safety was on, then tucked it into her waistband.

She was about to grab a second pistol from the table, when she noticed her gun sitting on a shelf in the locker. She picked it up and briefly examined it. She felt oddly nostalgic looking at it, almost as if she had missed it a little. Clem quickly checked to make sure it was unloaded, then reached for more bullets. She found it surprising the magazine held seventeen bullets. Clem loaded the magazine into her gun and checked to see if the safety was on.

She was ready to make her get away, when she had a thought. Clem pulled back the slide, then removed the magazine. Looking at it she noticed it had room for one more bullet. Clem loaded another round in it and pushed the magazine back into the gun. It fit as snuggly as before, and now there were eighteen bullets in the gun. As Clem closed one of the locker doors, she heard a rumbling sound at the main door. Someone was unlocking it.

Clem hurried onto the short safe, but then remembered she had left the other locker door open. She hopped back down and grabbed it, but before she shut it she heard a loud click as the container door was unbolted. Seeing no other option, Clem climbed into the locker and slowly closed the other door from inside. She watched as a light began to shine through the cracks of the door. Clem gripped her gun tightly, terrified she had already been discovered.


	48. Behind Closed Doors

"I don't see why we always have to do this at night," Clementine heard a sleepy Gene mumble from her hiding place in the locker.

"I do all my best thinking late at night," said Bill, who sounded wide awake. "Always have. When things are nice and quiet is when you can really clear your mind. And I've always found something about the dark relaxing. Like you're truly alone, and just free to be yourself."

"Then why do you usually call me out of bed too?" asked Gene.

"Because, I do a lot of good thinking when you're around."

"And we have to do this in the armory because?"

"I just wanted to see some of the handguns the crew found today," said Bill. "Figured we could do two things at once. You know, like…"

"Multitasking?"

"Yeah, exactly. Speaking of which, what do you think of this one?"

"I think I'd like it better if you weren't pointing it at me." Clem flinched as she heard a loud click. "Jesus Bill, you—"

"Oh lighten up Gene. You know that tight ass high schooler always double checks to make sure these things are empty."

"Well, I don't exactly feel much better having unloaded guns pointed at me either."

"That's the point Gene. You're not supposed to feel better when a gun is pointed at you. And I'm trying to find which one looks the worst pointed at somebody." Clem listened as she heard Bill pick up and set down several pistols in a hasty manner. "Now hang on, Byron said one of these had an expensive looking engraving on it he thought I'd like. I don't see it." Clem felt a chill shoot up her spine when she realized that was probably the gun she took.

"Maybe he's working on it or something," suggested an uninterested Gene.

"It's got to be around here somewhere." Clem nearly jumped out of her skin when the locker door swung open. It wasn't until she saw Bill's arm shuffling through the guns on the second shelf did she realize he hadn't opened the door she was behind. Clem instinctively pointed her gun at Bill's arm. She watched in terror as he dug deeper into the locker.

Clem found herself wondering what she should do if he saw her. Her first instinct was to shoot Bill if that happened, but she had no idea what to do after that. Clem felt like throwing up as she watched Bill check the top shelf, the only shelf on that side he hadn't checked yet. He was going to find her, and there was nothing she could do about it. The only question left was she going to shoot him or not when that happened.

"Look, you can ask him where it is in the morning," suggested Gene. "You know what he's like when you dig around in his stuff."

"It's my stuff," reminded Bill.

"You know what I—" Gene gasped. "Where did you come from?" Clem felt her whole body freeze up.

"I heard something." George's voice made Clem realize Gene hadn't seen her, which offered her a tiny bit of relief, followed by a swell of anxiety.

"You heard us you damn gorilla," barked Bill.

"Nah, there was something smaller scampering around a little earlier. Like an animal."

"Well, by all means, sniff around." Clem felt her stomach drop as she saw Bill pull the open door out as wide as he could. She could see out of the side of her eye that Bill was standing in front of the locker, as if he was inviting George to search it. As she heard George's heavy footsteps approach, Clem tightened her grip on the gun, thinking she had no choice but to try to shoot them.

"Something bothering you, boss?" Clem jumped as she heard the locker door slam shut in response to George's question.

"You know damn well what's bothering me," growled Bill.

"You still on that?"

"I told you, whatever Pete found up north must have been big for him to run off with three others like he did," explained Bill. "And we would have found it if you had just stayed put until he came out to get it. But—"

"Pete knew you'd be waiting for him in Springfield, and he'd be ready by the time he came out of hiding for whatever piss ants you left up there to watch out for him, assuming they even saw him coming to begin with," stated George. "It was best to settle this right away, so I settled it."

"You lost a man and nearly got Connie killed, all to bring back a bunch of useless fucking idiots we don't need and a doctor we can't trust."

"Not my fault the two people you sent to keep an eye on me didn't know what the fuck they were doing," spoke George in a dismissive tone. "And as for bringing people back. We had enough beds, so I brought them back. That's your policy, not mine."

"It's also my policy you do what the fuck I say, you hear me you goddamn dumb ape?" Clem listened for an answer, but she didn't hear one. "What, you deaf? Let me spell it out for you. You're only here because I want you to be, not because any of us need you. And if you want it to stay that way, you'd better not step out of line again." Clem listened again for an answer, and this time she heard George softly chuckling.

"Something funny you want to share with me?" asked Bill.

"What's it like?" asked George in an oddly curious tone.

"What's what like?"

"Having to do all this talking and scheming and scamming just to get people to do what you want?" asked George. "See, I got no idea. Anytime I tell someone to do something, they do it. If they're particularly thick-headed, I'll tell them a second time. Like your glorified hall monitor Maude. Practically pissed herself when I made it clear she was coming with me to bring Pete and the others back. All I had to do was ask, and that's all it takes for me to get someone to do what I want. But you, seems like you have to work real hard to make that happen."

"I ain't telling you again—"

"Yeah, you will." Clem listened as George moved away from the locker.

"Don't you walk away from me!" shouted Bill.

"I gotta get some sleep, I got a class to teach tomorrow," said George in an aloof voice. An odd silence followed George's departure for a few seconds before Bill spoke up.

"He's just about outlived his usefulness," commented Bill.

"You sure about that?" asked a tepid Gene. "He's still our best scavenger."

"He was," said Bill. "Big farm animal like him was useful back when we were competing with every wayward looter and a flood of lurkers none of us knew anything about.

"Now that things have settled a little and we know how they work, any couple of dopes with machetes can handle things. Which reminds me, I wanted to talk to you about the school."

"I think it's going well."

"Well I don't."

"Look, you said the same thing when Lauren started the greenhouse. Now it's helping to feed everyone. You said Cookie was unnecessary, and everyone perked up after he started handling the meals. You said the long lunch break for everyone would reduce how much work we'd get done in a day, and we get more done. And—"

"And you said debating that high and mighty faggot in front of everyone was a good idea," reminded Bill in a biting tone. "And he made you look like a fucking idiot."

"It wasn't like that, he—"

"You ever suggest something that stupid again, and you'll be leaving here next. You hear me?"

"Yeah… I hear you," answered a nervous Gene.

"And like I was saying, the school is shaping up to be a real bad idea. Not a single one of them worth the cost of feeding them. Except Adam. I wouldn't mind having a few more kids like him. Does what he's told, doesn't complain, and keeps his eyes and ears open. Well, as many of them as he has left."

"You shouldn't think of Adam as ideal. He's clearly traumatized—"

"We're all traumatized," retorted Bill. "Except maybe Gertrude's useless brat. All her hemming and hawing and she'll probably get herself killed on her first time out."

"Well that's why I've got George lined up for tomorrow. So that doesn't happen."

"Well, I guess that's one thing the big ape is still useful for, scaring people straight. But these damn kids just ain't worth the trouble."

"Look, I know the brothers aren't exactly rising to the occasion. But Ed really liked Sarah and—"

"And what? Dumb broad couldn't remember a screwdriver sitting in her pocket," commented Bill. "Even if she wasn't an idiot, Ed's gonna what? Train her for years just so we can have someone half as useful as him just in time for us to not need either of them?

"And that Clementine girl, she's the most useless of them all. She doesn't know anything, can't do anything useful, and she's got a rotten attitude. Little fucker nearly kills Connie, then has the nerve to ask for her worthless shit back right to my face. Spoiled little ingrate thinks people actually give a fuck what she wants." Clem felt her heart sink as she listened to Bill's characterization of her.

"Didn't Byron say she was the best shooter?" asked Gene.

"We already got plenty of people who can use a gun. What we need are more people we can depend on or someone who knows something important the rest of us don't, like the mad woman you got running the greenhouse. Not an entitled brat whose only talent is shooting a gun. That's just a recipe for trouble. Plus, we already have one of those. Her name Bridget."

"How much trouble do you really think someone like Clementine could really cause?" asked Gene.

"Not much, but that's more than I'm willing to risk for someone as worthless as her. Byron told me about how she didn't speak up when she found that bullet in her gun, like she was plotting something."

"I think you're overreacting. She probably just wasn't expecting it."

"Then she's incompetent, and that's almost as bad."

"She seems pretty capable for a nine-year-old."

"Yeah, for a nine-year-old," repeated Bill. "That's liking saying pretty capable for a damn baby. Kids aren't all that capable, so unless they're dependable like Adam, they ain't much use."

"You gotta think of it as a long-term investment. People need something right now to make them believe in a future, and they don't see that in Adam. But they do see it in having a couple of kids who actually act like kids. Gertrude and Cookie both like having them around. I like having them around. Hell, even Tom said he enjoyed his time with them, and he's on the crew.

"We have to think that one day, things are going to get better. If we lose that, we got nothing to shoot for."

"You see, that's one thing you and I have never seen eye to eye on Gene. You think if you found out this really is the end, that there be no point in going on. But the way I see it, it'd be a little like knowing the day you die.

"It'd be a shock at first, but once you've accepted it, it'd be liberating. Living like there's no tomorrow doesn't sound like a bad way to live, and if there really is no tomorrow, then you got no reason to not live when you think about it. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah…" spoke Gene in a dejected tone. "I just don't think most people would feel like that. For them, keeping a couple of kids around might help keep their spirits up."

"Yeah, but how many damn kids do we need? The way I see it, you really only need one for what you're talking about."

"Which one?" Gene asked, sounding uncomfortable as he did so.

"Well, I haven't decided yet," said Bill. "Let's finish up your classes first, then we'll see which one can be our little beacon of hope to the hopeful."

"And the others?"

"Let 'em fall where they may." Clementine listened closely as someone walked out of the container. She also thought she heard Gene sigh, but she wasn't sure.

"You coming Gene?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." Clem watched as the light shining through the cracks of the locker dimmed. She heard the doors slam close and the locks click into place, and then nothing. She was alone in the dark again, yet she still didn't move. She remained in the locker, waiting and listening for anyone else.

Clem didn't know how long it was until she finally summoned the nerve to push the locker open. She hesitated, almost expecting someone else to enter, but no one came. Clem climbed onto the safe, then onto the locker, and back out onto the top of the container. She surveyed the area, then sat down on the edge of the container and leapt down. Clem hurried back to the pen and went right towards the opening.

"Hello?" whispered Clem. "Christa? Carlos?" Clem reached through the hole, then heard someone approaching from the other side.

"You okay?" whispered Nick.

"Yeah, I got the guns."

"Pass them through." Clem removed the guns and stuck them through the slot in the fence. "Okay, now you." Clem saw Nick and Carlos's hands pull on the fence to widen the gap, allowing Clem to slip through. As her head came through the opening, Clem felt a set of hands grab her under the armpits and pull her through. Clearing the gap, Clem found herself in Christa's arms.

"Thank God you're all right." Christa held Clem tight. "You were gone so long I thought something must've happened to you."

"I'm okay," assured a weary Clem. "I'm just… tired." Christa set Clem down and handed the girl her hat back. As the pair moved back into the rest of the pen, they saw Carlos lift up one of the empty mattresses and place the two guns underneath it.

"Tomorrow evening we'll be rid of this place. Until then, everyone just keep your heads down," instructed Carlos in a hushed voice as he lay down on the same bed.

Clem found her way back to her bed, where Sarah was still sleeping peacefully. She very carefully climbed back into bed, taking great care not to disturb the older girl. As she settled in bed across from her friend, Clem noticed she seemed to be smiling, which Clem found comforting.


	49. School of Hard Knocks

Clementine looked over at the four walkers tied to posts, wandering about aimlessly, occasionally reaching the limits of their leashes. It was a cold, cloudy day and being hungry just made Clementine all the more miserable. She and the others had been led outside to an open area where George and Maude were standing in front of this odd sight, an impatient look on both their faces.

"Gene tells me to set all this up, then can't be bothered to show up himself," grumbled an irritated George.

"Can we just start without him?" asked Bridget.

"You're going to learn how to handle lurkers in groups of two," reminded Maude. "You can't do that without a partner."

"My partner is some weird animal child who wouldn't leave the classroom this morning," retorted Bridget. "I don't think he's going to be much help."

"I'll be your partner," offered Matt.

"Like hell," scoffed Bridget.

"Any chance I can trade Matt for Sarah?" asked Mick.

"What? Does bros before hoes mean nothing to you?" asked an offended Matt.

"I want to stay Clementine's partner," said Sarah.

"No one is changing partners." Maude checked her watch and sighed in frustration. "I'll call him." Maude reached for her radio.

"Hold up." George gestured to the gate. Everyone watched as Gene approached with Adam following right beside him.

"Sorry we're late," apologized Gene as Adam moved next to Bridget. "He was… he was a little anxious this morning."

"I don't like having my time wasted Gene," growled George.

"I know, I'm sorry. You've got everyone now so you can get started." Gene started walking back towards the front gate.

"You're not sticking around?" asked George.

"I can't, I need to see Bill about something."

George scowled as he turned back to the class. "Let's get this over with." George grabbed his machete and moved towards one of the walkers. "By now I'm sure y'all know what this is." George gestured to the walker leashed in the distance behind him. "Call 'em whatever you want, they all fall the same, which is my field of expertise."

George started moving towards one of the walkers. "These things mostly go after loud noises. But if you get in close enough, they'll smell you." Clementine watched as George stepped up to the walker. Once he was almost within arm's reach, the walker spun around and hastily stumbled towards George, who casually took a few steps back until the walker's leash stopped it. Clementine watched the corpse futilely snap its teeth at George, desperate to bite him.

"They tend to pick up the pace when they smell something they like. You can use this, fresh blood is like catnip for these damn things. They smell something bleeding nearby, and they'll go for that instead of you." George just stared at the walker for a moment.

"But you won't always have something to feed them, so that's when you need to take care of them. Your first instinct may be to aim for the head, because this…" George plunged his machete through the walker's chest. "Doesn't do a whole lot." The walker kept swinging its arms at George in a pathetic attempt to reach him.

"But skulls tend to be hard to crack, or so I'm told. If you got something sharp, you can go right through the eyes and into the brain." George pulled his machete out of the walker and aimed the blade's tip at the corpse's face.

"But the eyes tend to be a hard target to hit, and you may not have anything sharp on hand." George traced his machete down the walker's body. "However, these things can barely walk as it is, and after a week they're practically rotten to the core, so it doesn't take much to topple them." George stopped the tip of the machete at the walker's ankle. "You break a bone, slice a tendon, or just knock their leg out from under them, and they come down like a ton of bricks." Maude took a garbage picker in hand and approached George.

"And seeing as they're not exactly quick witted, once you knock 'em down, you got a golden opportunity to finish them off." Maude stepped to the right of the walker, an anxious look forming on her face. "Now, you want to get them right on the side of their ankle. You hit them from the front, they'll fall forward. Cut their leg out from behind them, they fall back. But you nail them from the side…"

George swung his machete at the walker's ankle, practically slicing its foot off. It fell onto its side and was promptly stabbed in the head by Maude. "And they fall sideways, and if you got someone waiting beside you, they can finish the job before the sack of dead meat even knows what happened to it."

"We've found that a simple division of labor goes a long way to clearing out groups of these things," explained Maude as she and George moved back towards the class. "One person knocks them down, the other one puts them down. You fall back a few feet if you can, do it again."

"These things don't think, they're slow, and they don't adapt. So you've got no reason for losing to them." George stabbed his machete into the dirt. "Any questions?" A nervous silence followed.

"Umm…" George immediately looked at Mick. "What if… you're like, totally surrounded by creeps? Then what?"

"You adapt," stated George. "If you're just trying to get past them, pick a direction and start swinging. Forget about finishing them off, both of you just aim for legs and clear a path through them before they get back up or figure out how to crawl. You just got to keep swinging and keep moving. Any other questions?" Another silence followed.

"I'd like to add, if I may…" Maude looked at George, who just shrugged. "When you're clearing an area, it's a good idea to stab already down ones, to make sure they are in fact dead. The more heavily wounded ones sometimes just give up walking and wait for someone to come to them." Maude sounded oddly bothered as she explained this.

"Well then, let's hurry up and get this over with." George moved over to Bridget and handed her the machete. "When working in pairs, whoever is stronger and faster should take point." Bridget tested the weight of the machete in her hands and smirked. "And in the case of you kids, whoever has the longer arms."

"Here." Maude handed the trash picker to Adam. "I find it's easier to use both hands."

"You better not get me killed," Bridget told Adam.

"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" George asked Bridget. "Pick one." Bridget inched towards the nearest standing walker, looking a little nervous as she did so.

"These ain't your momma's chickens," growled George. "Quit pussyfooting around and get on with it."

Bridget hurried to the nearest walker. As she approached the corpse, it turned around and stumbled towards her. Bridget hastily swung for the walker's leg, causing it to fall onto its side. No sooner had it hit the ground than it was stabbed in the skull. Adam immediately pulled the trash picker out and skewered the walker again.

"It's dead psycho," informed Bridget. "You can stop now."

"Both of you, quit fucking around with it and get over here," ordered George. "You two now." Bridget and Adam handed the weapons over to Mick and Matt, who immediately raced to the next walker. Mick chopped the walker's leg before it could turn around and Matt was all too happy to stab it in the back of the head.

"Oh yeah!" cheered Matt.

"The girls now." Clem took hold of the trash picker. Even with both hands she found it awkward to hold since it was nearly as long as she was tall. "Go on!" Sarah and Clem started moving towards the last walker. Sarah was trembling as she neared the walker, and yelped in surprise when it turned around. She hastily backed up as the walker reached the limit on its leash.

"It ain't getting any closer," barked George. "Deal with it already." Sarah nervously tiptoed closer to the walker. She looked up at the putrid corpse snapping its jaws at her, its arms flailing about like mad in a desperate attempt to grab someone. Clem watched as a paralyzed Sarah started breathing heavier with each passing second.

"You waiting on a kiss princess?" yelled George. "If that thing wasn't tied down, you and her would both be dead right now!" Clem watched as she saw Sarah growing more frightened upon hearing George's words.

"Sarah," whispered Clem. "Just, focus on the leg. All you got to do is hit the leg." Clem watched as Sarah's gaze moved down to the walker's feet. She stepped aside as the older girl arched the machete backwards. Sarah swung the blade and the walker fell onto its side. Clem hastily moved closer to its head and readied the trash picker, when she felt something grab her ankle. Clementine screamed as the walker pulled the girl's leg right out from under her, the trash picker flying out of her hands as she tumbled backwards onto the grass.

"Clementine!" Sarah tossed the machete aside and grabbed Clem's wrists, trying to pull her out of the walker's grip. Clem looked down at the walker and started screaming as she saw her foot being pulled towards its gaping maw. "Somebody help!" Adam lunged at the walker with the trash picker, jamming it clear through the vicious carcass's skull. Clem felt the walker's grip go limp and instinctively scurried away from it.

"Are you okay?" Looking past a shivering Sarah, Clem saw Maude standing behind her with a gun in hand. The older woman seemed rattled herself, her hands trembling as she lowered the gun. A sickening sound brought Clem's attention back to the walker, which Adam was repeatedly stabbing in the head.

"You should have used the machete! Not dropped it!" Bellowed George as he looked down at a shaking Sarah. "And you." Clem felt sickened as George looked directly at her, his furious gaze paralyzing the girl where she lay. "You should have been beside it! Not right in front of it!" Clem cowered before George as Maude examined Clementine's feet.

"She's okay," commented a nervous Maude. "She didn't get bit."

"She will soon enough. Both of them will." George marched off towards the front gate.

"Wait, we were supposed to—"

"You handle it," George ordered Maude. "I've wasted enough time with these damn kids."

Maude sighed as George disappeared from view. She led the class to a wooded area near the edge of Shaffer's wall and instructed them in practicing their technique on the nearby trees. Clem struggled with using the trash picker accurately, and found the machete even more unwieldy, barely managing to chop the side of a tree with it.

After a dozen practice swings with each weapon, Clem and Sarah passed the tools to Mick and Matt. Even resting while the others practiced, Clem found herself incredibly tired after only a couple of turns, and her stomach was practically growling by the third. Looking at Sarah, Clem noted the older girl was only doing marginally better herself, attacking the tree with less strength every turn.

After several more turns, all the children were growing tired, Bridget bemoaning the tedium of the exercise. Maude merely told her to keep working, refuting Bridget's complaints by asserting the need for them to develop muscle memory with these tools now so they'd have it for later.

Clementine found she hardly had the strength to even lift the machete now, let alone swing it. Yet Maude refused to let her stop until she completed twelve incredibly clumsy swings with the weapon. Watching a weary Adam and fatigued Matt stumble through their turns made Clem dread her next turn even more, but then Maude announced it was time for lunch, much to everyone's relief. Clem started marching back to the yard with the others, grimacing as she moved past the body of the walker that almost killed her.


	50. The Mad Woman's Greenhouse

Returning to the yard and collecting her meal, Clementine drank nearly half her soup in one gulp. Cookie's soup was already wonderful, and being the first thing she had eaten since eating it at lunch yesterday made it even more heavenly.

Sadly, Clem's appetite gave her little chance to savor the meal, downing all of it shortly after collecting it. Looking at Sarah's bowl, Clem found the older girl had already finished her meal too. And looking at her face, Clem could see Sarah was still hungry, just like her.

Carlos tried to offer his daughter some comfort, as did Christa for Clem, but it did little for either girl. Clem however did feel a little better knowing they would be leaving this place before long, but Sarah didn't, as she didn't know that.

Seeing the fearful look in her eyes, Clementine felt tempted to tell the older girl. Looking at her father, Clem could see Carlos likely shared this temptation with her. Yet neither said anything. A light rain began not long after lunch started, and the sound of the water hitting the top of the tent made conversation difficult.

As such, everyone merely waited quietly for lunch to end, Clem sharing a look of quiet anticipation with Christa, Carlos and Nick as they did. After Maude called an end to the meal, Hector approached the table, telling Mick and Matt they were to come with him while Clem and Sarah were to go with Harry to the greenhouse to be instructed by the resident gardener, Lauren.

Looking at Harry, Clem thought he looked a little like Matthew, but more muscular. He also didn't smile like Matthew did either, simply leading Clem and Sarah away with a quick tilt of his head. Moving through the rain, Clem found herself wishing she had an umbrella or rain coat. At least her hat stopped some of the water while Sarah had taken to using her jacket to shield herself from the weather.

"So, what's Lauren like?" Harry said nothing in response to Clem's question. "How come we never see her at lunch?" Again, no response. Looking at Harry, Clementine noticed he was wearing some kind of protective sports gear on his forearms. "What are those things on your arms?" Still no answer. "Um… can you hear me?"

"Yep," answered Harry.

"You just don't talk much?"

"Nope." Clem sighed. Looking ahead she saw another arrangement of cargo containers, forming a smaller wall near the corner of the main wall. Towering over the shorter wall were a pair of metal poles holding up what looked like some kind of clear plastic over the entire area. Harry opened the door to a container that served as a tunnel and led the girls through. Upon opening the container's other door, Clementine found herself standing in awe at the massive arrangement of plants spread out across dozens of tables.

"Wow." Moving inside Clem realized they were standing under a giant tent made out of a see-through material. The walls surrounding the tent were made of the same material, allowing Clem to see the rainwater flow off the tent and into a series of large metal tubs surrounding the exterior. Taking a breath, she discovered even the air smelled sweeter. But there was no sign of Lauren. "So where's—" Clem watched Harry disappear back into the tunnel as he closed the doors.

Looking around, Clem found herself stunned at just how beautiful all the plants were. There were several rows of strawberry bushes in different states of bloom lined up against one side, over half of which were bearing plump bright red fruit. There was a table full of a wide assortment of colorful flowers arranged to form a rainbow of different floras. Planters brimmed with large leafy vegetables while tall green stalks grew from carrot tops sitting in a tray of water. Across from that were rows of planters with wire cage constructions that had whole cucumbers hanging off them, just waiting to be picked. They looked so delicious that Clem couldn't resist reaching for one.

"Do! Not! Touch! Anything!" Clem and Sarah looked over to see a middle-aged woman in thick glasses with dark hair staring angrily at them, her piercing dark blue eyes paralyzing the girls where they stand. Her waistband was lined with pouches containing a large assortment of gardening tools and she wore a large gas mask that covered the front of her face. The woman marched forward, pulling her mask off so that it hung from her neck. "I'm assuming you're the first batch of children Eugene is forcing on me?"

"I'm Clementine."

"And I'm Sarah. Are you Lauren?"

"I, am Dr. Bostwick. You may refer to me as that, or simply ma'am, which I prefer. And I'll tell you right now, I don't care who either of you are." Clem frowned, realizing she probably wasn't going to enjoy her time with this woman.

"I'm sorry," said Sarah.

"You're sorry what?" asked Bostwick.

"Um… I'm sorry ma'am?"

"Yes, you are." Clem scowled, realizing she was actually going to hate her time with this woman.

"I didn't mean to sound rude, I was just wondering if you grew all these plants by yourself… ma'am."

"Do you think any one person could ever possibly grow and maintain this wide variety of flora with only the most remedial of equipment in the worst of circumstances through the dead of winter by themselves?" asked Bostwick in a dubious tone.

"I guess—"

"The answer is yes," announced Bostwick. "I am that one person. And why? Because I'm not a pitiable gardener or lowly horticulturist. I have a PhD in botany and a masters in chemistry from Cornell, and despite this, I've been assigned to the demeaning task of growing food for a cabal of violent Neanderthals whose only talent is clumsily dragging back every useless trinket they can for the benefit of an inept dictator whose short-sighted idiocy will likely doom the human race's greatest chance of survival." Clem and Sarah just stared at Bostwick, unsure what to say to her.

"Um, well, I think your garden is really amazing, ma'am," complimented a meek Sarah.

"Amazing?" scoffed an insulted Bostwick. "I've built a veritable Eden from scavenged trash under this flimsy plastic circus tent they laughably believed would pass for a functional greenhouse. I've personally nurtured, protected, and hand pollinated every single thing you see in here. I've worked miracles, and what thanks do I get?"

"Um—"

"I get a bunch of ungrateful imbeciles complaining that I alone haven't already built them a never-ending food supply before reaching our first growing season! Oh, how hard could it be? You just put seeds in the ground," mocked Bostwick in an odd accent.

"No, hunting and gathering are easy you fucking idiots! We stopped doing it because every moron eventually figured it out and left the rest of us with nothing to eat! A lesson obviously lost on the inbred hicks who still value a savage's abilities to carry things over the key scientific innovation that served as the foundation for all human civilization since before recorded history!" Clem and Sarah just stared at the fuming woman, baffled at how to respond to her.

"Do you want us to leave?" asked Clementine, hoping she'd say yes.

"Yes." Clem breathed a sigh of relief. "But Eugene is adamant on me ferrying troublesome children through my facility every afternoon for the next three days, so you're not to touch anything unless I specifically tell you to."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Bostwick marched away and out of sight behind some of the taller plants sitting on tables. She returned shortly pushing a large cart lined with buckets and tools. "You two, can push this, behind me, while I work." Bostwick wheeled the cart right before Clem and Sarah.

"That's it?" asked Clem.

"Yes, that covers every single thing I'm loosely confident either one you are capable of." Clem sighed as she and Sarah took hold of the cart's handles. "Wherever I am, I want that cart half a meter to the right of me."

"Meter?" whispered Clem.

"Three feet," answered Sarah. "So half that is a foot and a half."

"And I don't want to hear either of you talking to each other," scolded Bostwick. "Bad enough Eugene is forcing you on me as it is, the last thing I want to listen to is the bickering of children." Bostwick moved over to one of the many strawberry plants while Clem and Sarah moved the cart next to her.

"Um… your strawberries are really good," complimented Clem, hoping she could soften the woman's harsh attitude a little.

"Of course they are. I grew them," snapped the ornery doctor. "I'm so overqualified for this task it's sickening. These people would ask Rosalind Franklin to brew them moonshine." Clem grimaced as she realized flattery would be of no use.

"Gertrude said you stayed with her on her farm?" asked Sarah.

"Ugh, the pious hayseed and her horrid offspring," Bostwick mumbled to herself.

"So, you're not friends?" asked Sarah.

"I'm not here to entertain you with my life story," hissed Bostwick. "I'm here to work."

"Then why do we have to be here if you're not going to teach us anything?" Bostwick groaned loudly in response to Clementine's question.

"You want to learn? Fine," retorted Bostwick. "I'll answer any questions you have relating to my fields of expertise. And only questions relating to those topics. Otherwise, remain quiet." Clem and Sarah watched as Bostwick removed a pair of clippers from her belt and moved them towards a strawberry plant.

"Um, what are you doing now?" asked a curious Sarah.

"Currently, I'm identifying the stolons on this specimen and determining if this is an ideal time to excise them." Bostwick turned to Sarah. "Any other questions?" Sarah turned away.

"Why are there cut up carrots in a tray of water over there?" asked Clem, less curious to the answer and more interested in forcing Bostwick to talk to her.

"So the stems will continue to grow, allowing me to repeatedly harvest them," answered Bostwick without looking up.

"Why?" asked Clem.

"To eat them, why do you think?" asked an annoyed Bostwick.

"Why would we eat carrot stems?" asked Clementine.

"Why would…" Bostwick put her clippers away and turned around. "Well I do apologize if carrot greens doesn't appease your discriminating palate, but between the strawberries, radishes, cucumbers, and lettuce I'm currently being expected to produce on a regular basis and the sapling and seedlings I'm growing in preparation for spring, I had a rather limited amount of remaining resources and time at my disposal to satisfy the nutritional needs of over two dozen people and decided that greens from scallions, garlic and yes, even carrots, might be a cost effective way to supplement our diets!"

"I… I was just wondering… why not grow the whole carrot?" clarified a nervous Clem.

"Do you have any idea how long it takes for a carrot to reach maturity?" asked Bostwick.

"Um—"

"Currently I'm averaging about two months from germination. And once they're harvested they're gone. Those carrot greens can be harvested repeatedly, and contain potassium, vitamins, and even some protein and calcium! All things we need to live!" Clem flinched as Bostwick yelled at her. "Any other questions?" Clem shook her head and Bostwick returned to her work.

Clementine remained quiet after that, afraid to incur the doctor's wrath again with her ignorance. Instead, she merely pushed the cart as instructed as Bostwick worked quietly. The woman stopped at every plant they crossed and studied them intensely. Occasionally she'd clip leaves, or take a bit of the soil, but never harvested anything from her plants.

Sarah occasionally would ask a simple question, and sometimes would get a clear answer. Just listening, Clem did pick up a few things from the ornery doctor. Apparently the greens she lectured Clem about are put in the stew they eat at lunch. Radishes grow easily, and in about a month. You can harvest lettuce a few leaves at a time and more will grow back for a time. Ashes from the residents' fireplaces were used as fertilizer.

Probably the most interesting thing Clem discovered were the odd contraptions kept under the tables that looked like miniature tents. Bostwick occasionally removed them from under the tables and placed them over certain plants. When asked about them, she told Sarah they're cold frames, and they help to keep in heat. When Sarah asked if the tent already did that, Bostwick told her she didn't trust it. Clem found it was warmer under the tent than outside, but not much.

Mostly Clem found herself bored being forced to occasionally push around a cart for someone who made it abundantly clear she wanted nothing to do with her. She was also still shaken from the walker attack earlier that day. Between it and the one she tried to kill outside the lodge, Clem was beginning to think she was simply incapable of killing walkers without a gun. Despite being eager to leave tonight, Clem was also finding herself anxious at the thought of dealing with walkers again.

"What's this?" Bostwick jumped to one of the lettuce plants. "Something's been chewing on you," growled Bostwick through clenched teeth.

"We haven't—"

"Not you, an insect has been here. Those idiots must have brought it in with the last bucket of dirt they brought me," announced Bostwick as she approached the cart. "If you two want to be useful, you can help me find it and kill it."

"Right now?" asked Clem.

"Yes right now!" Bostwick handed a pair of fly swatters to Clem and Sarah. "Before the horrid thing lays eggs and destroys weeks of hard work."

"Okay, so—"

"Split up and search for any signs of the damn thing," ordered Bostwick as she put her mask back on and took a swatter and an aerosol can out from the cart. "A caterpillar would have probably eaten more, so the most likely culprit is a darkling beetle. Check under the tables, between pots and planters and if you find a caterpillar or a beetle, kill it. Then bring me what's left of it. If you find one that's already dead, bring me that then." Bostwick hovered over her lettuce plants, looking for any signs of the intruder.

"So, how do we find—"

"Use your eyes! How else!" ordered Bostwick.

"Where should we start?" asked Sarah.

"Anywhere, preferably away from me." Clem and Sarah started moving away from the obsessed botanist. "Wait." Clem and Sarah stopped. "If you find a bee, don't kill it. Bees pollinate plants."

"Okay," said Clementine as she turned away.

"And don't kill any ladybugs either. Their young eat aphids. Little bastards."

"We won't," assured Sarah.

"And above all else, if you find a spider, do not disturb it," ordered Bostwick.

"Because it might bite us?" asked Sarah.

"Because spiders eat pests and I don't want either of you scaring one away," instructed Bostwick. "In fact, if a spider tries to bite you, let it. Better it than you." Clem scowled and hurried away from the coarse woman, Sarah following behind her. Clem casually examined under a few of the tables and around some of the strawberry plants, then sighed.

"This is stupid," said Clem as she sat down. "We're not going to find it."

"Come on Clem," urged Sarah. "We shouldn't give up."

"Why not?" asked Clem. "Even if we find it, we just have to go back to pushing a cart while she does everything and talks about how much she hates us."

"Yeah, she's not very nice." Sarah sat down next to Clem. "Why did Gene make us come here if she didn't want to teach us anything?"

"Probably just to give us something to do," shrugged Clementine.

"Maybe he just wanted us to see the greenhouse." Sarah looked around at the foliage. "I had no idea there was somewhere like this the whole time I lived here. It's really beautiful."

"Too bad the person who stays here doesn't want anybody seeing it," said Clem.

"Well, maybe she's just worried about someone messing it up," reasoned Sarah. "I mean, she had to work really hard to grow all these plants. I don't think I could ever do that." Clementine looked out at the massive rows of fruits and vegetables, then sighed.

"Yeah, me neither," she realized. "I can't do anything."

"Don't say that," said Sarah.

"I couldn't even kill that walker this morning. I would have died if you didn't grab me or Adam didn't kill it."

"You're just nine years old."

"And I'm going to be nine for another half a year," lamented Clementine. "Then I'll be ten for a year. And eleven for a year."

"Clementine…" Sarah looked at the younger girl, slumped over with a depressed look on her face.

"It hasn't even been a whole year yet since people started turning into walkers," realized a dispirited Clem.

"Maybe things will get better at some point," suggested Sarah. "We may not be very good at fighting lurkers, but most of the people here seem like they are. Maybe one day they'll get rid of all of them, or most of them."

"Then we'd still be here," reminded Clem.

"Well, maybe this place will get better too?" suggested a hopeful Sarah.

"I don't think it will." Clem eyed the strawberries across from her. "I'm so hungry."

"Yeah, me too." Clementine found she couldn't look away from the bright plump fruits dangling across from her. It was as if they were beckoning to her. Clem stood up and scanned the area. Dr. Bostwick was under a table on the other side of the tent, probably still hunting for some lone beetle.

"Let's just eat something right now," suggested Clem.

"We can't do that," said Sarah.

"Why not? They should have fed us last night, and this morning."

"We got to eat lunch."

"And we're still hungry, because they took away our meals."

"I'm sorry I messed up. It's not fair they won't let you eat because of what I did."

"No it's not. If it's my fault for not remembering you had the screwdriver, then isn't it Ed's fault too? He was the one who gave it to you," reasoned Clem. "I bet he got dinner, and breakfast." Clementine moved towards the strawberries. She looked over to make sure Dr. Bostwick was still preoccupied, then headed to the nearest plant. "Maybe it's her fault for not watching us."

"Clementine, don't," said Sarah.

"Why not?" asked Clem as she reached for a strawberry.

"We'll get in trouble, and they'll feed us even less."

"That won't matter tomorrow." Clem gripped the strawberry.

"What? Of course it would. I'm already hungry, and if they don't feed us tomorrow…" Clem wanted to tell Sarah they wouldn't be here tomorrow, reasoning it wouldn't be long before the older girl knew anyway. But then she remembered what Carlos said about keeping their heads down and realized if they got in trouble today it might mess things up. Clementine let go of the strawberry and backed away.

"I'll just be glad when it's dinner," sighed Clem as she moved back towards Sarah.

"Yeah, me too."

Looking past Sarah, Clem spotted something. "Sarah," she whispered. "Look." Clem pointed at the table behind Sarah. Turning around the older girl found a black beetle sitting near a couple of potted flowers.

"Get it." At Clementine's urging, Sarah slowly crept forward and raised her swatter. "Wait." Clem crept around to the other side of the table. "If it runs this way, I'll get it."

Sarah nodded and took a step closer, which sent the beetle running. Clem swung at the bug and hit the table, sending it skittering back towards Sarah, who swung right at it. She hit the bug dead on, and the pot sitting behind it. Both girls watched in terror as the pot tipped onto its side, rolled off the table, and shattered.

"What was that!" Clementine and Sarah watched as Dr. Bostwick hurried towards them. "Oh God… no…" Clem watched in disbelief as Bostwick dropped to her knees, tears running down her face as she examined the damage. But the despair in eyes was immediately replaced with rage as she looked up at Clem and Sarah.

"Which one of you did this?" Clem and Sarah just stood motionless before the woman, stunned by the unbridled anger in her voice. "Well, speak up!" Clem flinched as Bostwick shrieked at them. "Well if you're not going to say anything, then I'll just assume it was both of you. So—"

"It was my fault," confessed a tearful Sarah. "Clementine didn't do anything. It was all my fault. It was an accident and I'm so so sorry. I—"

"You're sorry!" shouted an infuriated Bostwick. "You clumsy ox! Just look at what you did!" Bostwick gestured to the flower lying amongst the broken pot. "You think any amount of saying you're sorry will fix that!"

"I… I…"

"It was an accident," said Clem. "She was trying to kill the bug."

"Did I say kill one of my flowers as well? No!" Bostwick marched off towards her cart. "I told Eugene that this was a terrible idea, but would he listen? Of course not!" Bostwick hastily dug through the cart, tossing things aside. "Where's that bloody thing?" Bostwick pulled a radio from the cart. "Hello? Somebody?" She started fiddling with the knob. "Which channel was it? Hello?"

"Lauren? Is that you?" asked a surprised Hector.

"It's Dr. Bostwick to you! And I want you to send one of the armed knuckle draggers responsible for policing this hell hole to take these loathsome children away from my facility!"

"All right, I'll have someone pick them up."

"And get that William dolt on the telephone." Sarah trembled as Bostwick stared right at her. "There's a problem he needs to address, immediately."

"Bill's actually busy right now. So—"

"Well he just got busier, because if he wants me to keep feeding his gang of troglodytes, then he'd best give me his fullest attention, right now!"


	51. Urges

Clementine rushed through the rain, Harry right behind her. Nearing the pen, Clem spotted Byron waiting by the entrance, an umbrella in hand.

"Here, get in close," he instructed as Clem reached the gate. "I got her." Harry left without a word.

"How come we don't get umbrellas, or raincoats?" asked a soaked Clementine as she shook the rain off her sleeves.

"Hector put some towels in the pen." Byron could see Clem wasn't happy with that answer. "Like I said, I just work here." Byron looked past Clem. "Where's Sarah?"

"She got in trouble with Dr. Bostwick," explained Clem.

"What'd she do?"

"She knocked over a flower by accident and broke the pot."

"She grows flowers?" asked Byron in surprise. "I thought she was supposed to be growing us more food?"

"She mostly is. I think she said the flowers are for attracting bees, or was it getting rid of bad bugs?" Clem looked up at Byron. "Are you going to be watching the pen all night?"

"Until everyone gets back and Edmund brings dinner," answered Byron. "Why?"

"Just wondering," said Clem. "Is anyone else in there?"

"Just the brothers and Adam. Here, put your arms up so you can keep the umbrella over me." Byron flinched as he handed the umbrella to Clementine. "I'll be quick. I don't like this anymore than you do." Byron quickly patted Clem down, then stood up, rubbing his right shoulder.

"What happened to your arm?" asked Clem as she handed the umbrella back.

"Nothing," snapped Byron.

"I was just asking."

"Well don't."

Clem's eyes narrowed. "Do you think Walter is okay?" said Clem, more accusing than asking.

"He was fine the last time I saw him. After that is his problem," answered an annoyed Byron. "Away from the door." Byron unlatched the gate and let Clementine inside. She saw the towels Byron mentioned and immediately grabbed one. As she dried herself off, she could hear Matt talking with Mick.

"I don't care how big a bitch she is," said Matt. "Bridget is smoking hot. I would kill to get my hands on her."

"Ehh, I'd take Sarah over Bridget any day," answered Mick.

"You're insane."

"I don't dig chicks with attitude."

"Is that why you don't like Consuelo?" asked Matt. "Cause she's kinda hot and—"

"Stay away from her." Clem looked over at Mick. He seemed oddly disturbed at the mere mention of Consuelo.

"Okay, yeesh," spoke a confused Matt. "Never get why she gets you all worked up."

"Well she does, so just drop it."

"Okay, okay. But still, you're crazy to say you'd pick Sarah over Bridget."

"You're crazy to think you'd have any chance with Bridget."

"Not as crazy as you are for even thinking about Sarah. The only reason you're even considering her, at all, is she's literally one of only two girls close to our age here. Probably in the world really."

"Yeah, well, that counts for a lot these days."

"Yeah, well, if Sarah was my only choice, I'd rather choose Clementine." Clem found herself growing irritated by the brother's conversation.

"That's sick man," said Mick.

"I just mean, if those are my only two choices, I'd rather wait five years or whatever for Clementine to get older than go near Sarah," explained Matt. "She's a cute girl, she'll probably grow up to be hot."

"You know I can hear you," commented Clementine.

"Yeah, so?" shrugged Matt.

"So, I don't like you talking about me," retorted Clem.

"Then don't listen," suggested an unconcerned Matt. "Besides, I just said you're cute, learn to take a compliment." Clem turned away in disgust and tried to finish drying herself off in a hurry.

"See, that's what I mean about girls with attitude problems," said Mick. "You talk about Bridget, but you'd have to put up with shit like that all the time."

"Better than looking at a dog like Sarah all the time."

"She's kinda cute," said Mick. "And besides, she's got a nice ass."

"She's got a fat ass," said Matt.

"Dude, no, she's not even fat. Not even close."

"Didn't say she's fat. I said her ass is fat."

"Oh, I know what this is. You don't know what a girl's ass is supposed to look like. It's common for boys your age."

"I know what a girl's ass is supposed to look like. I stare at Bridget's ass all the time at lunch."

"Bridget doesn't have an ass."

"She has a tight ass."

"She is a tight ass."

"Would you two shut up?" asked Clementine, finding their conversation as annoying as it was confusing.

"How bout you stop eavesdropping on us?" suggested an annoyed Mick. "Or better yet, go hide in the bathroom like the freak is doing." Clem groaned and headed for the bathroom. Stepping inside, she saw Adam curled up in the corner. She closed the door and sat down in the corner across from him. Clem could still hear Mick and Matt, but the door was muffling their conversation.

"Um… hi." Adam didn't respond. "Are you okay?" Clem looked at the scarred one-eyed boy looking off into space and could clearly see he didn't feel okay. "Well, if you can hear me, I just wanted you to know, that I have seen some really bad things too." Adam kept looking off into space. "And, I understand why you wouldn't want to talk about them. I don't like talking about things like that either."

"Do you know what those older boys are talking about?" asked Adam in a quiet voice.

"You mean, just now?" Adam nodded. "Um. Girls, and how pretty they are, and choosing them, and what their… bottoms, look like, for some reason," recapped Clementine.

"Why?"

"Why are they talking about those things?" Adam nodded again. "I don't really know, it's kinda weird. Sarah told me that when girls get her age, they're supposed to think about boys and kissing, so maybe—"

"I used to know people who would talk about things like that. I didn't understand it either."

"There's a lot of things I don't understand," confessed Clem. "I hate being little."

"Me too…"

"Thanks for helping me this morning. I really don't like this place. It's the worst."

"No…" whispered Adam in a quiet voice.

"You don't think it's the worst?" Adam shook his head. "Well, maybe not the worst. There was this place in Savannah—"

"You haven't seen the worst."

"How would you know?"

"Because," spoke Adam. "You wouldn't be leaving this place tonight if you had."

Clementine's eyes went wide with shock. "What?" Clem waited for an answer, but didn't get one. "What did you just say?"

"Keep your heads down…" mumbled Adam to himself as Clementine approached him.

"You could come with us," whispered Clem.

"Pete wanted me to come with him," mumbled Adam.

"What? Pete—"

"I told him." Adam turned to Clementine, revealing the terror on his face. "I don't want to leave."

"Away from the door." Byron's announcement prompted Clem to leave the bathroom. Sarah shuffled into the pen, sobbing and soaking wet as she sat down on a bed.

"Sarah," called Clementine as she sat down next to our despondent friend. "Are you okay?" Sarah only sobbed softly in response while Clementine grabbed one of the towels. "You should take off your jacket." Sarah removed her wet jacket, letting it hit the ground and Clem started drying her hair. "What happened?"

"They… they said… I can't eat tonight," explained a choked Sarah.

"Oh Sarah, I'm—"

"Or all day tomorrow."

"What? But you barely got anything to eat today."

"I know," cried Sarah. "I'm going to starve. Just like that woman."

"You won't starve Sarah, you're…" Clem hesitated mentioning the escape plan, realizing Byron was still sitting just outside the fence. "It's just one more day. After that—"

"I'll mess up again," cried Sarah. "I'm going to starve to death because I'm stupid."

"No. Sarah. You'll be okay," assured Clementine. "Your dad—"

"He can't help me," whimpered Sarah. "Consuelo said they'd make things worse if he tried."

"Byron, come back," crackled the radio.

"Go head Hector," answered Byron.

"Can you give me a hand in the warehouse real quick?"

"I'm watching the pen," reminded Byron.

"I know, but I really need a second set of hands and everyone else is busy," explained Hector. "You're just outside, and it'll only take a minute."

"All right, I'm on my way." Byron put his radio down and turned to the gate. "I'll be back in a minute. So just try to stay behaved until then." Clem watched as Byron took his umbrella and moved out of sight. As soon as she couldn't see him, Clem leaned in real close and whispered directly in Sarah's ear.

"You'll be okay. We're leaving tonight."

"What?" Clem made a shushing sound. "They won't let us leave," whispered Sarah as quietly as she could.

"We've got guns, under the bed," whispered Clem.

"You do?"

"Your dad planned it all out. He'll shoot the guard and we'll get out of here."

"But, Byron is the guard," whispered Sarah. "I don't want dad to shoot him." Clementine realized she didn't like the idea of Byron being shot either, but looking at a nervous Sarah, Clem found herself disliking the idea of watching her friend starve to death a lot more.

"If we don't leave, you'll have to stay, and you won't get anything to eat," whispered Clem. "We're just doing what we have to."

"But—"

"I couldn't help but overhear." Clem turned her head to find Mick hovering over Sarah. "Is it true?" Clem felt her stomach sink. "They're not feeding you until the day after tomorrow?" Clem breathed a sigh of relief.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," answered a conflicted Sarah.

"That's bad." Mick sat down incredibly close to Sarah. "Real bad."

"I know." Clem noticed Mick seemed to be almost studying Sarah, his gaze moving up and down her body.

"She'll be okay," asserted Clementine.

"Oh no, you skip a whole day and it's almost impossible to catch up," informed Mick. "That's how it started for Felicity. She didn't get anything on her first day back in here, then she got sick, couldn't work one day, didn't get fed the next and… well, she's gone now."

"That won't happen to Sarah," said Clem.

"Hey, who's been here longer?" asked Matt.

"It doesn't matter, she'll be fine," asserted Clem.

"And why's that?" asked Mick.

"You two know something we don't?" asked Matt.

"No," denied Clem. "It's just, they won't let a little girl die."

"She's not that little, and even if she was they wouldn't care," stated Mick. "Matt had to skip a day once."

"Mick got me some food, but he said he wouldn't be able to do it again," explained Matt.

"Yeah…" Clem noticed the older boy appeared uncomfortable now. "Don't believe the guards when they say they can get you food. It's not worth it," insisted a shaky Mick.

"We won't," said Clem.

"But I know another way."

Sarah turned to Mick. "You… you do?"

Mick leaned in close, putting his arm around Sarah, who tensed up in response. "It's simple," he smiled. "At dinner, I put a couple of pieces of radish or lettuce in my mouth, and when they leave, I take them out and give them to you."

"That sounds kinda gross," said Sarah.

"It's better than not eating at all," assured Mick. "I've had to do it for Matt a few times."

"Don't tell her that," insisted an embarrassed Matt.

"But if I'm going to do this, I have to know you wouldn't tell anyone."

"I won't," assured a nervous Sarah.

"I'd like to believe you, but really I need a guarantee."

"How could I guarantee I wouldn't?" asked Sarah.

"Simple. Kiss me," suggested Mick.

"What?" asked a confused Clementine.

"Why do I have to kiss you?" asked a nearly as confused Sarah.

"So I know you care enough about me not to rat me out," explained Mick. "I care about you. Do you not care about me?"

"I care but…" Sarah turned away, as if she was trying to escape from Mick. "I really don't want to kiss you."

"Why not?" asked Mick, sounding a little offended. "There something wrong with me?"

"No, but… I just don't want to. You're only supposed to kiss people who are special to you."

"So I'm not special to you?"

"Well…"

"She says she doesn't want to kiss you," said Clem. "Leave her alone."

"Why don't you let her speak for herself?" suggested Mick.

"Yeah, stay out of it." Matt shoved Clementine off the bed. "This is big kid stuff."

"Don't hurt her," insisted a worried Sarah.

"She's fine, you're the one in trouble," reminded Mick. "Just one kiss and you can eat something tonight. If you want some privacy we could do it in the bathroom."

"She doesn't need any food tonight," asserted Clem as she approached the bed.

"Yeah, I'll be okay, just—"

"You were just crying about how you're going to starve, now you're okay?" observed Mick. "Both of you seem pretty calm about this problem."

"She'll be okay, because…" Clem scrambled to find an excuse. "Because, I'll save Sarah some food. I'll just put it in my mouth. You don't need Mick."

"You do that and we'll tell the guards," stated an annoyed Mick.

"I thought you said you care about Sarah?" retorted Clem. "But you won't let me give her food?"

"I gotta know you two aren't gonna turn around and rat me out," said Mick. "I mean, I offer to help her and just want her to show she trusts me, and you come back with we don't need you because you already gave us what we want? Pretty ungrateful."

"Yeah, Mick could just let you starve, but he's willing to risk his life for you, and this is how you say thanks?" added Matt.

"Maybe… maybe I could kiss you afterwards?" suggested Sarah.

"You're asking me to take you on faith when your little friend here is acting like we're trash?" noted Mick. "Not happening."

"We won't tell anyone, but just leave her alone," pleaded Clem.

"You think you'd want her to eat tonight," Mick told Clem. "And tomorrow. A kiss would only take a second but you're acting like I'm worse than going hungry."

"I'd… I'd rather just help her myself," reasoned Clem.

"Well if she lets me know I can trust her, then we can both help her. That's twice as much for her to eat. You are her friend, right? Don't you want what's best for her?" asked Mick.

"Maybe they already got a plan?" pondered Matt. "What were you whispering about before we came over?"

"If you are planning something, you should tell us," asserted Mick. "Because there's a good chance I'll know if it'll work or not."

"We're not. It's just…" Clem struggled to think of a rationale.

"I'll do it," stated a skittish Sarah. "If it'll make you happy." Sarah reluctantly turned to Mick, who had an eager smile on his face. She hastily arched her head forward and briefly kissed Mick on the cheek.

"There, I did it," said an uncomfortable Sarah.

"Oh no, it's gotta be a real kiss," insisted Mick. "On the lips."

"You didn't say that," exclaimed Clementine.

"Hey, stay out of it kid," instructed Matt.

"Come on, for real this time." Sarah sighed. Again, she very briefly kissed Mick, this time on the lips. "No, like how the adults kiss in the movies. Where they open their mouths and take their time."

"I… I don't want to do that," stammered Sarah.

"She just kissed you twice," stated Clem. "You—"

Matt shoved Clementine away from the bed. "Step off kid," he said.

"I don't want to do this," insisted a nervous Sarah as she tried to move out of Mick's grip. "I won't tell anyone anything, but—"

Mick pulled Sarah closer, refusing to let her go. "You know what, I'll just make it easy and kiss you," assured Mick in a confident voice. "Just relax and let me handle it."

"No!" Clem watched as Mick moved his other hand behind Sarah's head and forced her closer. "Stop it!" ordered Clementine as she lunged for Mick. "Don't—" Matt grabbed Clem by the arm and pulled her back. "Let me—ahh!" Clementine yelled out in pain as Matt twisted her arm.

"I said, step—" Clem heard a loud thud and suddenly found her arm free. Spinning around she found Adam standing over a woozy Matt, the bucket from the bathroom in his hands and a primal glare in his eye.

"The fuck are you doing?" Sarah fled as Mick moved to confront Adam. The younger boy swung the bucket, which Mick caught. Mick then grabbed Adam by the arm, but Adam immediately sunk his misshapen teeth into Mick's hand. The older boy cried out in pain from the savage bite, desperately he tried to pry Adam off with his other hand, but upon releasing the bucket Adam smashed the dented chunk of metal into Mick's face, knocking him to the ground.

Clementine watched in horror as Adam repeatedly hammered Mick's skull with the bucket. Over and over again, without pause, each blow as forceful as the last. Sickened by the sight of blood pooling on Mick's motionless face, Clementine turned away and covered her ears, but she couldn't block out the horrid sound of metal repeatedly smashing wet flesh into the pavement, or the gunshot that followed.

"Step back! Right now!" Clem watched as Byron barged into the pen, his gun trained on Adam. Hearing the shot and seeing Byron aim at him, Adam dropped the bucket and immediately backed into the nearest corner, trembling in terror. "Oh God…"

"Everyone check in," crackled Hector's voice over the radio. "What was that shot?"

"It was me," reported a shaky Byron. "I'm in the pen and it was a warning shot. I think Adam just killed Mick." Clem briefly looked towards Mick, and regretted it. In that short glimpse, she saw blood splattered on the pavement surrounding Mick's head, which had been broken into a grotesque mess of misshapen flesh.

"Mick!" cried Matt. "Mick, get up!"

"Stay back!" Clem heard Byron cry. "He's gonna—" Clementine listened as she heard an odd gurgling sound coming from Mick's direction.

"He's still alive!" declared Matt.

"No, he's coming back!" asserted Byron.

"No he's not. He's—" Another gunshot filled the air. "No! He was still alive!"

"He was coming back as one of them!"

"No he wasn't!" screamed Matt. "If his head was smashed then he wouldn't have come back at all! You fucking killed him!"


	52. Large Groups of Men

Clementine looked at Matt, sobbing to himself in the chair across from her and Sarah. He'd been crying ever since Byron brought them all to the reception area in Bill's office. Clementine wasn't sure where Adam was. The last she saw of him, Tom was tying his hands behind his back with a twist tie. The three of them were alone now, waiting for Byron to finish explaining what happened to Bill.

"I'm sorry Matt," spoke a tearful Sarah, on the verge of crying herself. "I'm so—"

"Fuck you slut!" snarled a hysterical Matt. "You fucking cock tease! This is your fault!"

"I… I'm…"

"She didn't do anything wrong," dictated an angry Clem.

"If you had just kissed Mick like he wanted, none of this would have happened!"

"I know, I'm—"

"It wouldn't have happened if Mick left her alone like she wanted," retorted Clem.

"You should have been grateful that there was someone who'd actually want to touch a butt ugly whore like you!"

"Your brother should have been grateful that Sarah would actually kiss someone like him."

"Clementine!" exclaimed a surprised Sarah. "Don't—"

"Fuck you, you little bitch!" barked Matt. "This if your fault too! If you had just stayed out of this!"

Clem glared a Matt. "Fuck you too!"

"Clem!"

"Eat me you stuck-up bitch! You think you're hot shit because you swear and you can shoot a gun? You're a stupid useless kid!"

"So are you!"

"I could kick your sorry little ass! Anyone could! You see any other kids your age? They all died because they're weak and stupid. Just like you!"

"Shut up!"

"And you'll die too." A wicked smile crept across Matt's face. "You and your ugly friend both."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"It's true. You two are only alive because your parents are dragging you along."

"You don't know anything about my parents," growled Clem.

"I know you'll die as soon as your mom is gone," retorted Matt, a sadistic glee in his voice. "Because a stupid little kid like you could never survive on her own." Clem found herself fuming, wanting to scream in Matt's face about how her parents were already dead. But then, she thought of something better.

"Adam's only a year older than me," reminded Clementine in a smug tone.

"Don't you ever say that freak's name again!" snarled Matt.

"He kicked your ass."

"Clementine!" exclaimed a surprised Sarah.

"You shut your fucking mouth!" demanded a boiling Matt as he leapt out his chair.

"He kicked your brother's ass too!" Matt dove for Clementine, knocking her to the ground and grabbing her throat with both hands.

"I'll choke the life out of you, you fucking bitch!" Clem struggled in vain to pry Matt's hands off her throat. She gasped for air, desperately flailing about in an attempt to free herself.

"Get off of her!" Sarah grabbed Matt's arms and pulled him off. As Clem gasped for air, Matt jerked about in an attempt to free himself from Sarah's grip.

"Let go of me you fugly skank!" Matt pulled his arm free and punched Sarah in the face, knocking her to the floor.

"Hey!" Byron grabbed Matt by the collar and tossed him in a chair. "Sit down!"

"Why don't you go head and kill me too asshole?" blathered a hysterical Matt.

"Don't tempt me," growled Byron as he helped Sarah off the ground and moved her to one of the chairs. "Bill wants to see you first," Byron told Clementine. "Just tell him what happened."

Clementine took a few deep breaths, then headed into Bill's office, where he and Gene were waiting. She told them about how Mick tried to get Sarah to kiss him and how he wouldn't let her go. Gene seemed particularly disturbed as Clem recapped how Adam used the bucket in the bathroom to crush Mick's head.

"I knew certain things set him off, but I never thought he'd do something like that," lamented a guilt-ridden Gene.

"To me, it sounds like Mick started something, and Adam finished it," commented a blasé Bill. "Still, probably best to keep the boy separated from the others when he's not working, at least for the time being."

"That's it?" asked Clem, expecting a worse punishment.

"Not a whole lot else we can do," shrugged Bill.

"I thought I was making progress with him," said Gene.

"Now what was that noise I heard out in the hall a minute ago?" asked Bill.

"Matt tried to choke me," answered Clem.

"And why's that?"

"Well, he was saying all this stuff about how it was Sarah's fault and my fault, so I got mad and…" Clementine paused as she realized what she just said.

"And what?" asked Bill.

"He told me kids won't survive, so I told him Adam kicked him and his brother's ass." Bill briefly snickered in response to what Clem said.

"Jesus Clementine," spoke an appalled Gene. "What would possess you to say something like that? And to someone who just lost the person closest to them?"

"He wouldn't leave us alone," argued a guilt-ridden Clem.

"Well it sounds like you started something there," assessed Bill. "Better be careful Matt doesn't try to finish it."

"You're not going to do something about him? He just tried to kill me."

"Well, we can't watch you kids twenty-four seven. So, I recommend you find a way to deal with it."

"But—"

"That is unless of course, there's something else you want to tell me?" Clementine was startled by the sudden change of tone in Bill's voice. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes suddenly sharply focused on the girl sitting across from him. "You haven't seen anything else worth telling me, have you?"

"No," said Clem.

"You sure about that?" asked Bill, his voice teeming with suspicion. "Can't think of any little thing that I might need to know about? If you did, and it's something important, I might be able to help you with this Matt problem you just started."

"No," repeated Clem, feeling more nervous with each passing moment.

"You're saying no, but your face is saying yes," noted Bill. "So, one last time, there anything you want to tell me?" Clem found herself scared stiff by Bill's intense glare.

"Lloyd said he'd get me food," Clementine hastily blurted out.

"Wait, what?" asked a shocked Gene.

"When he was guarding the pen one day," explained Clem. "He said he could get food for me."

"And what did you say?" asked Gene, anxious for an answer.

"I said I was okay." Gene appeared relieved upon hearing that. "Byron said they're not supposed to give us food."

"Um, yeah, they're not," confirmed a flustered Gene.

"Well, that's something, I guess," Bill grumbled to himself. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

"No, that's the only thing I can think of."

"Fine then, have it your way," shrugged Bill. "Go tell Byron to send that Matt kid in next. Then have him take you back to the pen." Clementine sat up and left Bill's office, locating Byron standing next to Tom, who were both watching Matt.

"Bill said he wants to see Matt," Clem told the pair.

Matt glared at Byron before slowly standing up and moving down the hall.

"He also said you're supposed to take me back to the pen," Clem told Byron.

"Tom, can you handle things here?" Tom nodded at Byron. "All right, come on." Byron switched on his flashlight and grabbed his umbrella. He led Clem out into the dark and back to the pen, where Consuelo was waiting in a raincoat. Realizing she'd be the guard Carlos would shoot, Clementine found herself actually glad to see the woman.

"Bout fucking time," she grumbled as she stood up.

"You got… wait, where the hell are you going?"

"This shit happened on your watch," said Consuelo as she wandered off. "You can stay out here in the rain until everyone's back."

Byron sighed and went for the latch. "Away from the door," he grumbled as he opened the gate.

"You're not going to search me?" asked Clem.

"Do you want me to?" asked a weary Byron.

"No."

"Me neither, just go." Clementine stepped inside and saw Carlos sitting on the bed the guns were hidden under, watching the gate intensely.

"Are you okay?" asked a worried Christa. "There's all this blood—"

"Where's Sarah?" asked Carlos in a reserved voice.

"She's at Bill's office, with Matt," answered Clem

"What the fuck happened in here?" asked Nick.

"Mick wanted Sarah to kiss him, and he wouldn't leave her alone."

"What?" bellowed Carlos. "I'll kill that boy."

"Adam already did."

"Wait, what?" asked a baffled Christa.

"He smashed his head in with a bucket. And then Byron shot him when he came back, or he was still alive and Byron shot him," explained Clem in a shaken voice. "Either way, he's dead now."

"Holy shit," spoke a stunned Nick.

"Did he hurt you?" asked Christa.

"Or Sarah?" added Carlos.

"I think he was trying to help us."

Carlos turned to Nick and Christa. "As soon as Sarah's back. Be ready."

Clem lay down on one of the beds and sighed, already exhausted from everything that's happened.

"Just a little longer," assured Christa as she sat down next to Clem. "Just a little longer Clem."

"I guess," shrugged a fatigued Clementine.

"You didn't see Adam do that to Mick, did you?" Clem nodded at Christa. "Oh, Clem."

"He said he heard people talk like that before, and he didn't understand it either," said Clem. "Right before he did it."

"Talk like what?" asked Christa.

"Mick and Matt, they were talking about Sarah and Bridget, and which one they liked better, and… they were talking about their butts for some reason. A lot. I didn't get it," recapped Clem. "And I don't get why Mick wanted to kiss Sarah so bad. I thought people only did that when they like each other, and Sarah told him she didn't want to. And then he said they had to kiss a certain way, like grown-ups do." Clem looked up at Christa. "Do you know what they were talking about? Or why Mick did that?" Christa just looked aside in response. "Christa?"

"Yeah, I heard you Clem," answered a troubled Christa.

"Well, do you know?" Again, Christa just sat there, clearly bothered by the question. "Christa?"

"I'm just trying to think how to explain all this to you." Christa sighed. "Okay, do you remember what I told you when you asked me where Omid and I's baby came from?"

"You said when a man and a woman love each other there's something special they can do together called sex, and it makes a baby grow in the woman's belly," answered Clementine.

"Yeah, well, people don't just have sex to make babies. They also do it because they want to."

"Why?"

"Because, when they reach a certain age, it's just something people want to do."

"What age?"

"Usually around twelve or thirteen. It's part of going through puberty and it can be different for everyone. Some parts of it come at different times than other parts. But once people get that old, sex is something they think about and want to do."

"But why?"

"It's… it's an impulse. Like when you're hungry, and you want to eat. Once boys and girls go through puberty, they want to do things with each other. Although, unlike eating, they won't die if they don't."

"Is it always boys and girls?" asked Clementine. "Can boys want to do things with other boys?"

"Well, yeah. Some of them."

"And can girls do sex with other girls?"

"Well… yeah… it's different, but…"

"Would both of them have a baby then?"

"No, only a man and a woman can make a baby together."

"Then why would they do it?"

"Because, it can feel good for them. Men and women don't always have sex to make babies either. They can do it just because they like it."

"Away from the door." Christa stood up and Clem climbed off the bed in a hurry. Carlos reached under the bed, ready for his moment. Clem watched as Matt stepped into the pen. He briefly glared at Clementine, then collapsed onto a bed. After a brief pause, he started crying into his pillow. Byron locked the gate and Carlos moved his hand out from under the bed.

"So, did Mick want to have sex with Sarah?" asked Clem as she sat down with Christa.

"Well I wasn't here, but yeah, probably."

"He said he just wanted to kiss her though. Is kissing sex?"

"No, people usually just don't have sex. They do other things before that, and those things can feel good too. Like kissing, or touching each other. If someone really likes a person, they might enjoy just looking at them. That's probably what those boys were talking about."

"If it feels good, how come Sarah didn't want to kiss Mick?"

"Just because you want to do things like that, doesn't mean you want to do them with just anyone. If you were hungry, you wouldn't eat a rock would you?"

"No."

"And you think some foods taste good and some taste bad right?"

"Yeah, although I'm hungry enough where I'd eat any food."

Christa sighed. "Yeah, but there's ones you like better, right?" Clem nodded. "It can be the same with people. Some you might want to be with, some you don't."

"But I don't think I've ever heard Sarah talk about wanting to kiss boys, or what they look like."

"Maybe she doesn't think about boys like that yet. Or maybe she doesn't think about it very often. Like I said, it's different for everyone. Boys tend to think more about sex than girls do."

"But what is sex? How do you do it?"

Christa sighed. "It's… like kissing… for the whole body."

"Like hugging?" asked Clem.

"No, it's more like, kissing… with your… private parts."

Clementine briefly thought about what Christa said, then shuddered. "That sounds… weird," spoke the girl in an uneasy voice.

"Well, that's why you'd only want to do that with someone you really like, and who really likes you," explained Christa in a concerned voice.

"Why would you do that with someone you didn't like?"

Christa took a deep breath. "Some people, bad people, want sex so bad, that they don't care if the other person wants to do it or not."

"Like, how Mick didn't care if Sarah wanted to kiss him or not?"

"Yeah Clem."

"But… how?" pondered a confused Clem. "How can they do something like that if the other person doesn't want to? Don't you need the other person to want to do that for it to work?" Christa rubbed her forehead. "I don't understand."

"Well… you know when the guards search you when you come into the pen?" asked Christa.

"I don't like it when they do that."

"Imagine if they didn't stop."

"What?"

"And that they weren't looking for weapons, but they just wanted to touch you."

"Why… why would…"

"And all over your body instead—"

"Stop!" Christa looked at the upset nine-year-old, breathing heavily, fear in her eyes and confusion hanging on her face.

"It's called rape," said Christa, sounding guilty as she told Clem that word. "And it's one of the worst things you can do to someone."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked a shaken Clementine.

"I'm telling you this now because I want you to know, if someone tries to touch you somewhere private, or wants you to touch them somewhere you don't, or wants you to take off your clothes, or anything strange that makes you feel uncomfortable, you need to get away from them," explained Christa carefully.

"What… what if I can't get away?" asked a nervous Clementine.

"Then you fight them," asserted Christa.

"Me?"

"Hit 'em, scratch 'em, bite 'em. Whatever you need to do to get away. If you have to, poke out their eyes. If it's a man, hit them between the legs as hard as you can. That really hurts them."

"What if I can't fight them?"

"Then scream. Make as much noise as you can so that someone will hear you and come help."

"What if no one comes?"

Christa looked aside, trying to think of an answer. "Clem—"

The rolling door to the warehouse slid open and people armed with shotguns jumped into the pen.

"Nobody move!"


	53. The Nicest Prison

Clementine watched as Maude, Tom and Consuelo all moved into the pen, shotguns aimed at Carlos, Nick and Christa.

"Everyone, slowly raise your hands," ordered Maude. "And place them on top of your head." Clem did as instructed, as did everyone else.

"What the hell is going on?" asked an alarmed Byron as he rushed into the pen.

"Settle down blondie," ordered Bill as he entered the pen from the warehouse. "Just watch the damn gate."

"All of you, face the fence and move towards it until you can't move any further." Clementine forced herself to walk forward, finding her legs shaking so badly she could barely remain standing. She stopped just a hair away from the fence.

"Which bed is it?" asked Bill.

"I don't know." Clem felt sick upon hearing Sarah's voice.

"Sarah?" asked a shocked Carlos.

"Face the fence!" ordered Maude.

"I'm… I'm sorry dad," sobbed Sarah. "I'm—"

"Don't be sorry," instructed Bill. "If what you said is true, you may have just saved a lot of lives." Clem listened as the crew searched the beds.

"Bill, right here," said Tom.

"Keep looking. There might be more," ordered Bill. "And Maude, start padding them down. They might have more on them."

"Stay still." Clem shuddered as Maude's hands ran down her sides. She pulled up both of Clem's pant legs, the back of her shirt and the front of her shirt. Clem flinched as Maude took off her hat, which she then tossed at Clem's feet.

Clem remained motionless, feeling sicker with every passing moment. She was too afraid to even look to her left or right, terrified one of the guards would shoot her if she did. After an agonizing couple of minutes, Maude ordered them to turn around slowly. Clem turned and saw Bill standing in the middle of the pen, the two pistols in his hands.

"That's one mystery solved," he commented as he admired the ornate pistol in his left hand. "And apparently one wasn't enough." Looking past Bill and the others, Clementine saw Sarah standing near the loading door, her head hanging low in shame.

"Now I've always prided myself on being a fair man," spoke Bill. "I don't ask for much. Just a little cooperation. A little patience. A little responsibility. And in exchange, I give you shelter, I give you food, I even gave a few of you a second chance." Bill glared at Carlos and Nick.

"But I guess I'm just too nice, because despite everything I've done, this is how you repay me!" Bill brandished the pistols before the group. "A goddamn knife in my back! So guess what? No more mister nice guy! You're all staying right here until I'm satisfied! We'll be here all night if that's what it takes! Because no one is leaving until I know who, when, where and how these guns got in here!"

Clementine felt her heart pounding against the side of her chest as Bill slowly glared at everyone.

"So, where should we start? How bout—"

"I did it." Bill turned to Carlos, who simply stared at the man.

"Well, ain't this anticlimactic?" Bill gestured to Carlos, who slowly stepped forward. "But tell me something, how'd you get into the armory?"

"It was unlocked," answered Carlos without hesitation.

"Oh really?" asked a dubious Bill. "And when was this?"

"Yesterday."

"And how'd you get these into the pen?"

Carlos thought to himself. "I'd rather not say out loud."

Matt snickered, and Consuelo promptly moved to the boy. "Wait, no. I—" Consuelo smashed the butt of her gun right into Matt's stomach, knocking the boy to his knees.

"Now, I will admit, I was a little surprised when you just walked out of here last time. Always knew Pete was restless, but you struck me as someone more practical than him," lectured Bill. "But I don't make the same mistake twice. That's why I've had someone glued to you ever since you got back, which means even though I know you would like to, I know you couldn't have taken these. So tell me, who did?"

"No one," insisted Carlos.

"Oh really? You're telling me no one in here lifted a finger in helping you pull this off?"

"Not in the pen, no."

Bill's eyes widened in surprise, an odd mixture of shock and anger in his face. "Who was it?" he growled.

"It's not obvious?" Carlos's question seemed to almost confuse Bill. Looking around, Bill honed in on Byron.

"Wait, you don't think it's me?" asked Byron.

"You're the one who keeps track of all our guns," growled Bill.

"Yeah, and I'm also the one who told you about the gun you're holding right now," reminded Byron as he gestured to the ornate gun in Bill's hand. "If I were to steal a gun, would I pick the one I also told you to look for? I left it out for you last night. Ask Hector, he saw it himself when he locked the armory. Other than him, you're the only one with the keys."

"Someone took the keys," explained Carlos. "Someone who can get close to you when they need to."

Bill turned to Consuelo. "What, really?" she scoffed. "If I wanted more guns, I'd just ask you for them," smirked the woman, unfazed by the accusation.

"She's not the only one you keep close." Bill spun around and pointed a gun right at Carlos's head.

"No!" Consuelo intercepted Sarah as she tried to run to her father. "Please, please don't hurt him!"

"You hear her Carlos?" asked Bill. "She doesn't want me to hurt you. Maybe you should think of her." Carlos looked past Bill at Sarah, who was being held by Consuelo. "I'm going to count to three, and if you don't tell me the truth, well, your daughter's becoming an orphan."

"No! Don't hurt my dad!" pleaded a desperate Sarah as she tried to escape Consuelo's grip.

"He's the one who wanted to hurt people," Bill reminded Sarah. "One."

"No! Stop! Somebody!"

Listening to Sarah's hysterical pleas for help, Clementine suddenly felt overwhelmed. Part of her was petrified at the notion of Carlos telling Bill she took the guns, and yet listening to Sarah, Clem found herself sickened by the idea of Carlos being shot right in front of his daughter because of something she did.

"Don't!" begged a hysterical Sarah. "Just stop!"

"Your dad can stop this whenever he wants," reasoned Bill. "Two." Clem looked at the horror and desperation in Sarah's eyes and could just feel the pain of losing a parent in herself. Watching her fight against Consuelo's grasp, Clem realized she couldn't let someone else suffer that if she could stop it.

"I—"

"If I tell you the truth…" asked Carlos in a resigned voice.

"Yes?" Bill looked at Carlos, who stared back at the man, revealing an unyielding defiance on his face.

"If I told you the truth, you wouldn't even realize it." Bill smashed the end of his gun into Carlos's eye socket.

"No!" screamed Sarah at the top of her lungs. "Stop it! Don't hurt my dad!" Maude had to grab Sarah's other arm as she pulled one free from Consuelo's grip. Clem watched on in horror as Bill struck Carlos again, knocking him to his knees. Then again, knocking the man onto his back.

Clem found herself unable to turn away from the sickening sight of Bill repeatedly bludgeoning Carlos in front of a hysterical Sarah, tears streaming from her eyes while blood was splattering out one of her father's. Bill hit the man again and again, his blows becoming faster and more vicious with every strike.

"Jesus Bill, stop!" Byron's warning did nothing to abate Bill's assault. "Hey!" Byron grabbed Bill's wrist mid-swing. "Enough!" Bill turned to Byron, directing a deathly glare at the much younger man.

"Enough?" repeated an outraged Bill. "That's enough?" Byron hastily released Bill's hand, only now realizing what he did.

"I just mean… if you kill him, he'll turn into a zombie and kill you, or someone else," reasoned Byron.

"Oh, is that why you stopped me?" remarked a sarcastic Bill as he approached Byron.

"They get the idea," rationalized a nervous Byron. "You can stop. That's all I'm saying." Clementine looked down at Carlos, who was lying motionless on the ground, the entire right side of his face bloody and beaten.

"Don't tell me you're getting soft already." Bill wiped the blood on his hand onto Byron's vest. "Or was you killing Pete just a fluke?" Bill forcibly shoved the bloody pistol into Byron's chest. "Here, try not to lose it this time you fucking idiot."

Bill tucked the other pistol into his coat, then stepped over Carlos's still motionless body as he approached Sarah, who was on her knees gasping for air. Sarah recoiled in fear as Bill knelt down in front of her, trying to scurry away, but couldn't because of Consuelo's and Maude's grip on her.

"I'm real sorry you had to see that," said Bill, not actually sounding sorry in the least. "And I hate even more to be the one telling you this, but Sarah, your daddy just ain't a good man. And not just because of this.

"I've watched your father let people die, even though he could have saved them, just because he didn't want to spare the supplies for them. Your friend over there? Clementine? He left her out in the cold to bleed to death once for the same reason. And just tonight he was going to murder more people."

Sarah appeared crushed before Bill's characterization of her father. Her arms simply fell to the ground when Consuelo and Maude released them. She remained completely still, her wet eyes glazed over and her face blank.

"I used to think your father couldn't be all bad because he was taking care of a good girl like you. But now I'm thinking you're just one more person Carlos has been hurting. I always thought there'd come a point when you'd find your place here and join the rest us in building a future, but your daddy just wouldn't have it. No matter what any of us told him, he kept you locked up in a cage, all because he has no faith in you."

"That's not true." Bill and Consuelo immediately descended upon Nick, who cowered before the pair as Consuelo pointed her shotgun at him.

"You got something else you want to say you yellow bellied piece of shit?" Nick just remained quiet, too afraid to respond. "Tell me something, Nick, what do you think your beloved uncle had to do to justify me keeping around a no talent nutless stain of shit such as yourself?

"I'll give you a big hint. You ever notice in all the time you lived here, we never had a problem with running out of beds in the pen, or rooms for the residents? No matter what happened, we never had to make accommodations beyond what we already had. Like there was someone making sure we never found too many people, alive anyway." A look of shock crept across Nick's face as he realized what Bill was saying.

"Now don't act so surprised. Your uncle understood we couldn't feed everyone, and he understood we couldn't have scores of lost people banging on our front gate all hours of the night, so he handled things out there, so you could stay here." Nick appeared sick as he processed what Bill was telling him.

"Come now, you surely must have suspected something when he killed that woman's husband?" Bill gestured to Christa, which just confused Nick. "Oh no? That something else Carlos did?" Nick looked away in shame. "You?" Bill chuckled to himself as Nick appeared racked with guilt. "Well, I'll be goddamned. Guess you needed a warm up before you killed Greg." Bill moved back to Sarah, who was still on her knees, staring at her father.

"You did a good thing today here Sarah. I know right now it doesn't feel like it, but you did. You put everyone else's lives over your father's, and that took a lot of bravery." Sarah didn't respond to Bill. "Really, someone like you doesn't belong in here with the likes of these people." Bill stood up and turned to Byron, who seemed sickened by the situation.

"Seeing as you're the sentimental type, why don't you take Sarah here to her old room?" suggested Bill. "It's the red one closest to the armory. Get her some wood and get a fire going so she can stay nice and warm tonight. I don't think we ever cleared it out, so, it should be just like home." Byron slowly approached Sarah and looked down at the broken girl on her knees.

"Come on," urged Byron in a soft voice. "I'll walk you to your room." Sarah very slowly stood up. Byron placed his hand on the girl's shoulder and guided her towards the gate. Looking at Sarah as she passed by, Clem thought she looked utterly destroyed. Her head hanging low, hunched over and barely shuffling forward with Byron's urging as the pair moved past the gate.

"And go ahead and kill the light," instructed Bill. "None of you are eating tonight."

"What?" exclaimed Matt. "I didn't have anything to do with this!"

"Then who did?" asked an annoyed Bill.

"I don't fucking know, ask them!"

"Well maybe you should find out," suggested Bill. "Seeing as your no good thieving brother ain't here to help you no more."

"Mick didn't steal anything!"

"So you stole the egg from Gertrude's coop then?"

"Wait, how did—"

"Just because you ain't paying attention doesn't mean the rest of us aren't," reminded Bill in a cold voice. "Maybe a day without food will help motivate you to keep your damn eyes open."

"And don't come looking to me this time," teased Consuelo as she headed for the loading door. "You're not nearly as handsome as your dead brother." Everyone watched as Tom and Maude closed the loading door, leaving the group in the darkness, their only company the sound of the rain hitting the pavement and the distant cracks of thunder.

"You fucking assholes…" mumbled a devastated Matt as he wandered into one of the beds. "Things weren't bad enough, you had to ruin what's left of my shitty life?" Christa did her best to navigate through the dark towards where Carlos was lying. She knelt down close to him, trying to better see him.

"He's… he's still breathing," reported a shaken Christa. "Nick, help me get him into a bed."

"Sa… Sarah?" mumbled a half-conscious Carlos in a desperate whisper as Nick and Christa moved him into one of the beds.

"She's okay," assured Christa. "But she's not here right now."

"Wuh… where?"

"They said they're taking her to her old room," answered Christa. "Just rest for now, okay?" Christa reached for one of the pillows on the other bed. She dumped the pillow out, then turned the case inside out. "Hopefully these things are a little cleaner on the inside." Christa wrapped the case around the right side of Carlos's head, tying it into a crude bandage.

"We… we should also tie him to the bed," realized a saddened Christa.

"What?" said Nick.

"In case he doesn't make it through the night." Nick sighed and felt around in the dark for the restraints attached to the bed posts. He and Christa bound Carlos's arms and legs, then retired to their own beds.

"Christa?" asked Clementine as she approached the woman's bed.

"Yeah Clem?" asked a drained Christa.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"You feeling lonely again?"

"No, I'm really scared," admitted a trembling Clementine.

"Come on." Clem crawled into the bed, moving as close to Christa as possible.


	54. The Stuff Nightmares Are Made Of

"It's so cold," spoke a shivering Clementine.

"Just hold onto me," instructed Christa as she pulled Clem closer.

"What… what are we going to do now?"

"I… I don't know Clem."

"This… this is all Sarah's fault," realized a bitter Clem. "If she hadn't told on us, we would have escaped."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Thinking about it now, it was a pretty reckless plan. Shooting our way out of here."

"But if it worked we wouldn't be here right now."

"No, we'd be out in the cold rain on a dark night right now. Looking for something that might not even be there anymore."

"I… I wish we were back at the cabin right now."

"Me too." Clem tightened her grip on Christa.

"Christa, when Felicity said she'd do anything, she meant sex, didn't she?" Christa sighed in response. "She didn't want to, but she was so hungry, she'd do sex with them if they gave her food."

"Yes Clem," answered a reluctant Christa. "That's what it sounded like."

"That's what Mick did with Sarah. He wanted a kiss, but it was the same thing. Making someone do something they didn't want to do because they were hungry."

"Yeah, and that was wrong too."

"And, Consuelo did it to Mick."

Christa looked down at Clem. "What?"

"I think Mick had to do sex with Consuelo, to get food for Matt once," explained Clementine. "Mick was always afraid of her, and Matt said he did something once to get food, but he could never do it again."

"Jesus Christ…"

"That's rape isn't it? That's the horrible thing Byron warned me and Sarah about when he told us not to take food from the guards," realized Clem. "Christa, if a man rapes a woman, will the woman have a baby?"

Christa took a deep breath. "Maybe. It depends on a lot of things, but, it can happen."

"So, if someone rapes me—"

"No one is going to rape you," assured Christa as confidentially as she could.

"If they did, that means a baby might grow in me," realized a horrified Clementine.

"No, you're too young for that to happen Clementine."

"Am I?" asked a trembling Clem in disbelief. "Nobody cares that I'm a kid anymore."

"It's literally impossible Clem. You have to be a certain age before you could ever have a baby. And you're not old enough. And people don't want to have sex with children, okay?"

"You're sure?"

"Yes, again, you need to be a certain age. Think about it, Mick didn't want to kiss you, did he?"

"No."

"And you said they were talking about Bridget and Sarah, but they didn't talk about you, right?"

"Matt did. But he said he'd rather wait for me to get older than go near Sarah."

"Exactly. You're not old enough for people, good or bad, to want to do something like that with you. I'm sorry I even told you about it, I just… I just wanted you to know why Mick was doing that to Sarah, but you'll be fine. You hear me? Nobody wants to have sex with children."

"Nobody?" repeated Clem.

"No one." Clem wanted to believe that, but something nagging the girl in the back of her mind wouldn't allow it.

"What about a pedophile?" Christa looked at Clem in shock.

"Where did you hear that word?" asked a frightened Christa.

"Byron said he felt like a pedophile when he had to search me." A horrible feeling swept over Clementine as she realized something. "They… they're people who want to touch kids? Aren't they?"

"Clementine…"

"Not just touch them. They're people who… who want to have sex with kids, aren't they?"

"They're incredibly rare Clem. And I don't think anyone here is a pedophile."

"Lloyd is!"

"Who?"

"The old man with the weird voice. He's a pedophile."

"Why do you think that?" Christa put her hands on Clementine's cheeks and gently tilted her head upwards. Even in the dark, Clementine could see the overwhelming concern on Christa's face. "Clementine, just tell me what happened."

"When he searched me, he did it really slowly, and it felt like he was, squeezing me as he did it."

"Did he touch you anywhere the other guards didn't?"

"No. But he said he'd get me food."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him no." Christa breathed a sigh of relief. "If I had said yes, he would have raped me, wouldn't he?"

"We don't know that."

"Yes we do, that's what happens here," cried Clementine.

"God, I shouldn't have told you about any of this," spoke Christa with great regret.

"Why not?" asked an indignant Clem.

"Because now it's all you can think about. I should have waited to tell you, or just—"

"If I didn't know this, and somebody did want to rape me, I wouldn't even know it until it was too late."

"No one is going to rape you Clem," assured Christa.

"You don't know that," sobbed Clementine.

"I know no one is going to do that right now, okay? I'm right here with you. You're fine," assured Christa in a calming voice as she rubbed the back of Clem's head.

"But—"

"No, just relax. Breathe," instructed Christa. "I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe. Just remember what I told you. If you think something is going to happen, make a lot noise. One of these assholes always seems to be close, and as bad as they are, even they probably wouldn't look the other way for something like that."

"Probably?" repeated a shaken Clem.

"And tomorrow I'll think of something Clem. I'll figure something out. If I got to scream to everyone in this place about how there's a nine-year-old terrified about being raped just to find one who cares enough to do something about it, I will. But right now, you should just get some sleep." Christa gripped Clementine as tightly as she could, moving her arm up and down the girl's back, trying to calm her.

"Christa," spoke Clem. "Is this why you never wanted to look for other people?"

"It's one reason." Clem found it hard to relax. The horrid sights she witnessed today, their hopes of escape gone, and now a whole new danger she had never even thought about haunted the girl as she closed her eyes.

Clem fidgeted for a while before finally settling in place in Christa's arms. Lying there, Clem found fatigue gradually overtaking her, slowly dulling her mind until she couldn't really focus on her troubles anymore. Just as Clem thought she could finally get some sleep, she felt a strong hand cover her mouth. Her first instinct was Christa was trying to wake her, but then she felt a strong arm wrapping around her own arms.

Clem watched in horror as she was plucked right out of Christa's grip. Someone lifted her right off the ground and started carrying her in the direction of the warehouse. Clementine tried screaming, but the hand covering her mouth made that impossible. She tried to break free of her captor's grip, but whoever holding her was too strong. She tried kicking her legs in desperation, but they failed to connect with anything.

As she was pulled past the loading door, Clementine caught one last glimpse of Christa sleeping, before the door slid shut, leaving Clementine helpless in total darkness.


	55. Still a Prison

Clementine struggled with all her might as someone held her wrists. She started thrashing her legs about, desperate to escape.

"Help!" screamed Clementine at the top of her lungs. "Somebody help me!"

"Clementine!" called a familiar voice. "Stop!" As Clementine opened her eyes, she saw Christa standing over her, holding her wrists in place. It was morning now, and Clem found herself lying in her bed.

"Christa?" asked a confused Clementine.

"Yeah," reassured a worried Christa. "You started kicking me in your sleep. Then you started screaming."

"I… I did?"

"Yeah, you must've been having a nightmare." Christa released Clementine's wrists.

"Are… are you sure?" asked a still terrified Clem. "I mean, are you sure nobody came in here?"

"Who?"

"I don't know, somebody." Clem frantically searched the area for any signs of an intruder. "You didn't hear anything?"

"Just you screaming a minute ago."

"I… I wasn't in a different bed was I?" asked Clem as she looked around. "Or, did it look like somebody put me back in this bed? Or—"

"Clementine, I still had my arms around you when you woke up," assured Christa as she sat down next to Clem. "You've been right here all night." Clem threw arms around Christa and started sobbing quietly on the woman's shoulder. "It's okay sweetie. I'm right here."

"I hate this place," wept Clem.

"Yeah, me too." Looking over at Carlos, Christa stood up and examined the wounded man. The crude bandage she made was bloodied now, but it did appear to stop further bleeding. "Carlos?" said Christa as she shook him gently.

"He… he okay?" asked Nick. "Should we untie him?"

"Carlos?" repeated Christa "Can you hear me?"

Carlos moaned softly as he opened his uncovered eye. "Where… where am I?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"You're in the pen." Carlos turned his head and buried his eye in the pillow, as if he wished he hadn't woken up.

"Give us a second, we'll untie you." Nick and Christa undid the ties around Carlos's wrists and ankles. Free to move, Carlos slowly rolled onto his side, where he simply remained.

"Away from the door." Clem watched as Maude, Lloyd, Tom and Consuelo entered the pen, Edmund pushing his cart right behind them. "Hurry up and get your breakfast." Clem and the others got their plate and their cup of water. Clementine ate quickly, finding herself very hungry and thirsty having eaten nothing since lunch yesterday. As she ate she couldn't help noticing Matt was angrily staring at her, holding just a cup of water in his hand.

"Carlos, get up and get your water." Carlos didn't move in response to Maude's order. "I said get up!" Slowly Carlos crawled out of bed and approached Maude, who thrust a cup into his hands. He hastily drank it and handed the cup back. "Everyone finish up. Kids are with me. Lloyd takes Carlos, Tom gets Nick, and Consuelo is taking you to Bill." Maude pointed at Christa.

"Me?" asked Christa. "What for?"

"That's his business," answered Maude. "He said he wanted to see you after he finished his morning announcements."

"Come on fella," prodded Lloyd as he took a hunched over Carlos by the arm. "Bill said if you're up for it, he wanted you to inventory and label the tools in the hospital."

"Matt, Clem, start marching." Clementine headed out of the gate with Matt and started moving towards where Gene taught his classes.

"Rise and shine everyone!" called Bill's voice over the megaphone. "Hopefully the weather didn't keep you up because we got plenty to do today, just like any day. However, we have a new resident to help us shoulder the burden. Our former resident doctor, not content with just abandoning us, moved on to plotting against us yesterday, ready to kill any one of you who got in his way.

"But don't be alarmed, his very own daughter, Sarah, stepped up and did the right thing. After months of being kept under lock and key by her cold-blooded father, she's come out from under his shadow to become one of us. So if you see her today, give her a real warm welcome. I'm expecting great things from her in the future."

Clementine felt her blood boiling as she listened to Bill talk. She was so angry she wasn't sure who she was mad at more. Bill for all the nonsense he was peddling in his smug voice, or Sarah for being foolish enough to trust such a horrible man.

"Remember now, when you're in a pinch, an ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness, because being clever doesn't do you any good unless you also got people you can count on to make things happen."

"Go sit down and wait for Mr. Spiegel," instructed Maude as she opened the door to the classroom. Clementine moved to her usual table in the middle while Matt sat down on the one on the right. The two just sat there quietly for a moment before Matt opened his mouth.

"You ever notice Gene and Bridget always come in after the rest of us get here?" asked Matt in an oddly cryptic tone. "There's always those few minutes before they show up, where it's just us pen rats." Matt turned towards Clementine, a vicious look forming on his face, like a predator eyeing a piece of meat.

"I… I'm sorry about what happened to Mick," apologized Clementine in a hasty fashion.

"No you're not," asserted Matt in a cold voice as he stood up.

"I am," insisted Clem. "And I'm sorry about what I said. It wasn't—"

"You're only saying that because you're trapped in a room with me," dictated Matt as he slowly started moving towards Clementine.

"Please, I don't want to fight," begged Clem as Matt grew closer.

"No, you don't. Because without your friend, I'd kill you."

Clementine jumped to her feet but Matt grabbed her wrist before she could move away. "Let me go!" she said as she tried to pull her hand free.

"Make me." Clementine balled her other hand into a fist and tried to hit Matt, but he grabbed her other wrist before the blow could connect. Clementine struggled to break free, but couldn't.

"You… you'll get in trouble," rationalized Clem.

"They don't care about any of us," stated Matt. "I can do whatever I want to you." Clementine gritted her teeth and kicked Matt as hard as she could right between his legs. Matt immediately let go of Clem and gripped his groin, wheezing for air while hunched over in pain. Clementine then stepped forward and kicked him again, even harder. Matt collapsed onto the pavement, writhing in pain. Clem watched closely as the boy struggled to even get onto his knees.

"Fucking bitch…" he choked in a pained voice. "I'll fucking kill you. I swear—" Clementine kicked Matt in the stomach knocking the boy over onto his side. Before he could recover Clementine kicked him in the head. Matt covered his face with his arms so Clementine kicked him in the stomach again, then yet again.

She kept kicking the boy as hard as she possibly could, over and over, without pause, each blow making her eager to land another. Clem felt herself wanting nothing more than to kick Matt's teeth out, to break his every bone, to bash open his empty head on the hard pavement and finally shut him up for good.

"Clementine!" Clem froze in place when she saw Sarah standing at the door, looking at the younger girl in utter shock.

"Back away!" Maude aimed her gun at Clem, who immediately put her hands up and backed into a wall. Clementine watched as Gene rushed to Matt's side, Bridget coming up right behind him.

"Holy shit," commented an amused Bridget. "You got beat up by a little girl? You and your brother are pathetic."

"I'll fuckin' kill you!" Matt screamed at Bridget.

"Yeah right," scoffed Bridget.

"Bridget, you say another word and I'll put you to work myself for the rest of the day!" bellowed Gene.

"You can't—"

"I can and will!" Bridget recoiled in surprise when Gene yelled at her. "So sit down and shut up! Now!"

"Uh… yes, sir." Bridget meekly moved to her desk and sat down without another word.

"Is Carlos at the hospital?" Gene asked Maude.

"He is," she answered.

"All right, come on Matt, I'll—"

"Fuck you!" Matt yelled to Gene. "You fucking fraud! Like you give a fuck? You're the one who kept that fucking freak around!"

"Sarah, Bridget, just wait here," instructed Gene. "I'll take him to Carlos and come right back."

"What about her?" asked Maude as she gestured to Clementine.

"He said he would kill me," said Clem. "He started it."

"I don't care who started it," commented Gene as he headed for the door with Matt. "Maude, put Clementine to work for the rest of the morning."


	56. Hard Labor

Maude marched Clementine along one of Shaffer's walls and into the forested area just beyond it.

"Where… where are we going?" asked a nervous Clem.

"You, are going to assist Richard this morning," informed Maude. "You do everything he tells you to do. If you don't, then you getting nothing for lunch." Clementine tensed up as she heard a chainsaw revving up in the distance. "If you try to run or Richard thinks you're trying to run, he won't hesitate to shoot you," explained Maude, her voice devoid of any concern. "So don't give him a reason to."

The area they were moving through was littered with dozens of tree stumps and near one the larger ones was a middle-aged man with a beard and a chainsaw. He was slicing the trunk of a fallen tree into smaller pieces, working his way to the end of the tree before turning around.

"Rich!" Richard turned the chainsaw off so he could hear Maude.

"What!" he answered.

"I brought you a helper." Maude shoved Clementine forward.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me? Another damn kid?" groused the man.

"Another?" Clementine suddenly noticed Adam collecting pieces of cut up timber around one of the bigger tree stumps. He carried them over to a large industrial cart and stacked them inside.

"Gene said put her to work, so here she is," instructed Maude.

"Why don't you tell Gene the last thing I need is more fucking useless kids," barked Richard. "Especially a fucking girl. Even that worthless shit Matt would have been better than her."

"Gene said she works, so she works," retorted an irritated Maude. "So start working." Maude marched off, leaving Clementine alone with Richard.

"Um, so—"

"Quit babbling and get your ass over here." Clementine quickly moved to where Richard was standing. The man picked up a large axe and looked down at Clem and Adam. "Cyclops, you stack the wood. Princess, you put the logs on the stump." Clementine looked at the fallen tree behind Richard, now just a line of logs waiting to be picked up. "Today!" Clem grabbed the nearest piece of wood and strained to pick it up. It felt like it weighed a ton, and carrying it back towards the stump proved to be exhausting.

"Fucking pathetic," grumbled Richard as Clem dropped the log onto the stump. "Set it right side up!" Richard arched the axe up as Clem moved the chunk of wood so that it was standing upright. As soon as she finished, Richard brought the axe down on the log, causing Clem to snap her hands back in surprise as it was split into two. She watched as Richard quickly hacked the halves into quarters.

"Well, where's the next one?" yelled Richard. "Don't just stand there, get moving! There should be another piece ready by the time I'm done." Clementine rushed back to the next piece of wood and grabbed it. The second one felt even heavier than the first, and it was a slightly longer walk than the first. She dumped it on the stump, righted it, then rushed back for the next piece.

"Pick up the pace!" barked Richard as he chopped the wood.

"I'm doing my best," muttered an already tired Clem as she strained to carry the next log to the stump.

"Your best is shit," commented Richard as Clem dropped the next piece onto the stump. "Ya pampered little princess, probably never worked a day in your life." Clementine straightened the third piece and went for the fourth. Richard finished hacking the latest log while Clem struggled to even lift another piece.

"Put some effort in it. Some hard work won't kill you."

"I'm trying," cried Clem. "My arm is—"

"My back's killing me and I'm not pissing and moaning about it like you," lectured Richard as Clem managed to lift the piece of wood. "They spoil you kids rotten, you know that? Whining about every little thing." Clementine clumsily dropped the wood onto the stump. "My old man worked me harder than this when I was half your age. Did me nothing but good." Clem righted the piece. "You should be grateful, not bitching."

Clementine stumbled to the next closest piece and grabbed hold of it. She tried with all her might, but she only managed to lift the next piece of wood a few inches before dropping it. Clem collapsed onto the log, gasping for air.

"Did I say you could take a break!" shouted Richard.

"I can't lift it!" yelled Clementine. "It's too heavy…"

Richard swung his axe into the stump, embedding it into the wood. "Oh, it's too heavy? I'm sorry I don't have any lighter wood lying around for you princess!"

"Maybe Adam could do this and I—"

"Maybe you can do what I told you to do and he can do what I told him to!" insisted Richard. "He was carrying and stacking wood before you even got here, twice as much as you're doing, and he didn't complain! Probably the only one of you shits with any fucking manners." Clementine looked to Adam, desperate for some kind of help or comfort. But Adam merely stood next to Richard, the same disinterested look in his eye he usually had.

"I just can't do it…" spoke a fatigued Clementine in a pitiable voice.

"Well then, I guess he and I are just going to sit here with our thumbs up our asses because of you, and when Maude asks me what happened, I'll tell her, 'It was that new girl. Refused to work. Cost us a whole day of lumber just because she's lazy.' And that'll cost you your meal privileges for the day."

Clementine dreaded going even longer without eating. She had missed three out of her last five meals and she already felt like she was starving. Clem reached down to pick up the wood again, but it slipped out her grip, rolling a few inches away. Clementine gasped for air. Between the biting cold, her aching muscles and the hunger pains in her stomach, she felt like just collapsing.

"That's the problem with your generation. Things get the least bit hard and you just give up," griped a disgusted Richard. "I'll just call Maude now and tell her you refuse to even try to work." Looking down at the log, Clementine felt it might as well be a whole tree. She watched in despair as Richard picked up his radio. Turning back to the log, Clementine hastily tried to grab it again, but the sudden shift in weight caused her to fall forward onto the log, which rolled out from under her. Pulling herself out of the cold mud, Clementine looked at the log a few inches away now, then suddenly had her answer. She scrambled over to it and started pushing it, rolling it towards where Richard was sitting.

"Well what's this?" asked an annoyed Richard as he put his radio away. "I thought you said you can't do it?" Clementine couldn't even find the strength to answer him. She merely concentrated on trying to lift the log onto the stump after Richard pulled his axe out of it. It took pretty much every bit of strength she had, but she managed to get it on the stump.

"About fucking time." Clementine stumbled back for the next piece, finding her lungs aching as she did so. She rolled the next log towards the stump, then gritted her teeth as she hoisted it upwards. "Goddammit…" Clem watched as Richard walked away from the stump, his axe still in hand. "Fucking chainsaw dragging 'em out of the woodworks."

Clementine looked back towards the fallen tree and saw three walkers wandering towards it. She didn't even notice them until just now, and suddenly found herself hastily searching the area for more, paranoid there were others she missed. Seeing nothing, Clementine slid down the stump and sat down, desperate for whatever little rest she could get.

She watched Richard casually chop one walker's leg with the axe, causing it to fall over, then another. For the third one he simply aimed for the head, killing it with ease. Then he returned to the first two and killed them while they clumsily attempted to crawl to him. Richard then removed a sports bottle clipped to his belt and pulled out what looked like a bundle of cotton from inside. He resealed the bottle and started shaking it, making an annoying rattling sound.

Looking away from Richard, Clementine noticed a blue bird sitting in a branch on a tree just above her. It tweeted to itself a few times and hopped across the branch. Clem found it mesmerizing; she so rarely saw animals anymore. She watched it closely for a few seconds, as it just seemed to move about, free of any worries, before flying away and out of sight.

"Goddamn lurkers, fucking everything up," mumbled Richard as he marched back towards the stump. Turning to Adam, Clementine saw the boy sitting by the cart, staring off into space like he usually did. He didn't look nearly as tired as she did, but he certainly didn't look happy either.

"You're sure you don't want to leave this place?" asked Clem.

"Yes," answered Adam in a quiet voice.


	57. Wage Gap

Clementine strained as she pushed the cart back into the warehouse. Even with it being empty now and Adam helping, it felt like it weighed a ton. After hours of rolling logs, stacking wood, pushing the cart, re-stacking the wood in a cargo container in the yard, and being repeatedly yelled at every step of the way for everything she did wrong, Clem felt ready to just fall over and die.

"Hustle up you two," ordered Richard as the pair slid the cart into place near the entrance. "You've made me late enough as it is." Clementine followed after Richard, more on instinct than anything at this point. She long had given up ever trying to speak in front of him, knowing anything she'd say would be met with more scorn and derision. She followed after the man, not really looking at where she was going. It wasn't until Richard stopped moving did Clem bother looking around.

"Did they work?" Hearing Maude's voice, Clementine realized she was actually standing in line for lunch.

"The girl did a shit job from start to finish." Clem felt what little strength she had left draining out of her body. She could barely remain standing as her legs wobbled at just the thought of getting nothing to eat after working so hard. "But she finished, so, sure, whatever."

Richard took his food and headed for the table in the middle. Adam took his next, greedily gulping it while moving off to the side. Clementine rushed to the window next, impatiently watching for Cookie or Edmund to hand her a bowl. When she didn't immediately see them, she had a horrible feeling she wasn't getting one, but then she saw Cookie's hand.

Clementine snatched the bowl and rushed to the nearest seat. She immediately started chugging the soup, crying in joy when she felt the warm delectable liquid move down her throat and into her empty stomach. She set the bowl down, having to take a deep breath after swallowing so much.

"Jesus, Clementine…" Clem looked up and found Christa and Nick sitting across from her, troubled expressions on both their faces. "What happened to you?"

"Wood," answered an exhausted Clem as she looked at what little soup she had left. "Lots of wood." Clementine finished the last of her soup and set the bowl down. She was about to get her water when she noticed Nick was looking around.

"What—" Nick held up his hand and Clem went quiet. She watched him move closer to Christa, then put his hand on his bowl. Looking around, Clem noticed Nick was staring at Maude. As she walked past the table, Nick quietly slid his bowl towards Clem, then pulled her empty one towards him. Christa nodded to Clem, who quickly downed what was left in Nick's bowl. The trio waited in silence after Clem set the bowl down, waiting for someone to say something, then breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"I can't believe they made you work," spoke an outraged Christa.

"I got in a fight with Matt," explained Clem as she filled her empty bowl with water. "So Gene said I had to work instead." Clementine looked around the table for anyone else sitting nearby. "Um, Matt's not here, is he?"

"No," answered Christa.

"Neither's Carlos," noted Nick. "Probably because they're not feeding them." Clementine watched as Gene, Bridget, Ed and Sarah approached Cookie's kitchen shack.

"I can't wait to drive out on the open road," beamed an exuberant Bridget as she collected her food. "It's gonna be awesome."

"Yeah, well, that'll be a while with the way you were handling the truck today," commented Ed as he waited for his meals. "Should take a cue from Sarah and slow things down a bit."

"Her? She's four years younger than me," scoffed Bridget. "And she never drove anything before today."

"And yet I'd feel a helluva lot more comfortable with her behind the wheel than you." Sarah took her bowl of soup and moved away from the shack.

"Sarah," called Gene. "You've got a bowl of canned goods coming too." Sarah stepped back to the counter and watched as a smaller bowl of peas was set out for her. Sarah just stared at it, not sure what to think. "Go on. It's yours." Sarah slowly picked up the bowl and then started moving towards the table Clementine was sitting at.

"Sarah, you need to sit with the rest of us," explained Gene as he placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "It's not a big deal for me, but Maude will turn it into one, so come on." Clementine noticed Sarah looking at her, a desperate look in the older girl's eyes. Clementine looked at the two bowls of food Sarah was holding and just glowered at her. Sarah hung her head in shame and went with Gene.

"I had to work all morning just to get a bowl of soup," recounted a bitter Clem before taking a sip of water. "And I'm the smallest, weakest person here." Clem scratched her bandaged arm.

"And your arm is hurt," added a saddened Christa.

"It's bothering me again," said Clem. "But it's not as sore as before. Now it itches, and it feels like the stitches are pulling on my skin."

"They're probably ready to come out," explained Christa.

"They have to come out?" asked a frightened Clementine.

"Don't worry Clem, it's not nearly as bad as putting them in."

"I'm more worried about carrying wood that I can barely lift again."

"You won't have to do that again."

"You don't know that," stated Clem in a sad voice.

"Yes I do. I talked to Bill today. He told me when my baby is born, he'll move me out of the pen," announced Christa. "And he said as long as he thinks I'm cooperating, you'll come with me. He also said Consuelo and Lloyd won't be guarding the pen anymore. You'll be okay, you just got to hang in there for a little while longer."

"What… what if I don't get to come with you?" asked a forlorn Clem.

"That's not going to happen," asserted Christa. "They can't make me leave you."

"Yes they can. They can do whatever they want to us."

Christa took hold of Clementine's hands. "I'm going to do everything I possibly can to make sure you and I stay together," promised Christa. "I'm not leaving you Clem." Clementine knew Christa meant what she said, but it didn't make her feel any better. It seemed liked whatever they wanted didn't matter in this place.

"I'm really tired," Clem told Christa. "I think I'm just gonna lie down on the ground for a little while."

"Do whatever you feel like you need to sweetie," said Christa. "I'll be right here." After finishing her water and returning her bowl, Clementine moved under the table and lay down on the cold pavement. It wasn't very comfortable, but it still felt good to just rest for a little while. Looking across from her, she noticed Adam lying under the tables on the other end. She never really thought much about what he did at lunch, but now she knew, he was resting for more work. All though, she still couldn't understand why he slept under his bed.

As Clem lay there, she watched people's feet coming and going. It was kind of peaceful, being hidden from sight. She heard Maude call her one minute warning, and watched as people scrambled. She figured someone would eventually call for her. One by one the people left, even Adam, until it was just her under the table, and a single pair of legs at the table furthest from.

"Hey down there." Clem heeded the friendly sounding voice and came out from under the table. She saw Cookie standing over her, a welcome smile on his face. "Whatcha doing down there precious?"

"Trying to rest," answered a decidedly unfriendly Clementine. "I spent all morning toting wood in the cold even though my arm is bothering me, because if I don't they'd starve me to death."

"Oh, precious, they wouldn't—"

"Yes they would," snapped Clem. "Do you really think they wouldn't?" Cookie looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "You think because I'm a kid you can just lie to me, and make everything better when it's not?"

Cookie sighed. "Look, I just cook the food here. I—"

"Yeah, and Gertrude just takes care of the chickens. But nobody here takes cares of the kids, because we're just lazy… ungrateful… shits!" ranted Clem.

"Now don't talk like that. You—"

"What the fuck do you care?" retorted Clem. "That's how most of them talk to us. You think just because you don't say horrible things to me that I'll think you actually care about me?"

Cookie pulled out a chair and sat down. "What do you want me to say?" he asked in a resigned voice. "You think I don't know how fucked up it is they're working you kids the way they do? Or how they won't feed certain people some days? I got to make every meal in this place, so I always know when someone is not eating.

"The worst part is waiting to find out if someone is going to eat again. When someone doesn't eat for a day, I can hope maybe they will tomorrow. They don't eat for two days, then I figure it means they're gone. They don't tell me anything. Right now I'm wondering if Mick, Matt and Carlos are still alive or not."

"Matt and Carlos are, Mick's not," answered Clementine.

"Jesus," Cookie said to himself. "What happened?"

"Adam bashed his head in with a bucket, right in front of me."

"What?" Cookie looked at Clem in disbelief, who just nervously nodded at the man. "Good Lord."

"Why are you even talking to me?" asked Clem.

"I'm supposed to give you a cooking lesson today."

"They don't actually care if we learn anything or not."

"Well, consider it a break from work then," shrugged Cookie. "I'll get my things, you get your friend, and we'll get started."

"My friend?"

"Sitting over there."

Clementine looked over and saw Sarah resting her head on the table.


	58. Only Temporary

Clementine couldn't stop staring at Sarah, still outraged over what she did. She betrayed everyone, and was rewarded for it. Being freed of the pen, given more to eat, while having to do less than before. But the thing that angered Clementine most was the radio attached to Sarah's waistband. One look at the stickers on it, and Clem knew it was hers.

Cookie had been going on about iron skillets and how you only have to occasionally season them with vegetable oil, and why that's a good thing since they can't get butter anymore. Clementine really couldn't care less what he was saying. None if it seemed to matter. As if she would ever get a chance to use anything he was supposedly teaching her.

"Cookie?" called Gertrude's voice over the radio. "Is this the right channel?"

"Yeah girl, what's up?" answered Cookie.

"I wanted to give you a heads up. Bill said one of my hens has gone too long without laying and well, I'm gonna have to butcher her," reported Gertrude. "Just wanted to make sure you got everything you need to cook chicken tomorrow before I do."

"Yeah, I'll be looking forward to it," assured Cookie. "We still got a lot of rice, so I could do grilled chicken and rice if Bill signs off on it. Maybe Lauren has some extra vegetables we could use."

"Good luck prying them away from her," chuckled Gertrude. "I'll have the bird ready for you tomorrow after lunch, and we'll all be eating chicken for dinner." Cookie clipped his radio back to his belt. Turning back to Clem and Sarah, he couldn't help noticing the utter contempt on Clem's face and the unrelenting misery on Sarah's. "Umm, you girls want to know why people call me Cookie?"

"Cause you're a cook?" guessed an uninterested Clem.

"No actually, it's an old childhood nickname of mine," explained Cookie. "Cookie was apparently the first word I ever said, and according to my parents it was the only word I knew for a long time. So with me saying cookie all the time, they just started saying it back to me and it kinda stuck.

"My name is William and I was a delivery man before the outbreak. But I went camping with my pa a lot, got used to cooking with just a skillet over an open flame, and I remembered a lot of things my ma taught me around the kitchen and when I told Gene, he thought I could be the cook, and since there's already someone else named William here, I figured, Cookie will work." Looking back at Clem and Sarah, Cookie saw absolutely no change in either girl's face.

"Um, well…" Cookie rubbed the back of his head. "You know, let me get one of my grills. I think you might find that a bit more interesting." Cookie left the girls at the table while he headed back into his shack. Sarah looked up at a still angry Clementine, then looked away.

"Cluh… Clementine?" asked Sarah, too ashamed to look the younger girl in the eyes. "Have… have you seen my dad? Is he—"

"Whatta you care?" snapped Clem.

"Wuh… what?" asked a confused Sarah.

"Do you care about what happened to me today?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why did you tell!" Sarah flinched as Clementine raised her voice. "You ruined everything!"

"I… I…"

"Matt's trying to kill me! He probably would have this morning if I didn't stop him! But because I did, I had to carry tons of wood I could barely lift because they'll starve me if I don't! And they'll probably make me do it again tomorrow while you're getting fat on chicken!"

Sarah started shrieking hysterically. Clementine watched in shock as tears started pouring out of the older girl's eyes as she screamed in agony, as if she was suddenly dying. It was unlike any other time Clem had seen Sarah cry, she was yelling so much that it sounded like she was suffocating.

"Jesus, Sarah, girl, what's wrong?" asked Cookie as he came running out of his shack. Clementine found herself deeply regretting everything she just said as she saw Sarah cry her heart out. It was such a miserable sight, it made Clem feel like crying herself.

"Sarah," spoke a penitent Clem. "I'm—" In a flash, Sarah took off running. Clementine just watched in disbelief as one of the few people left in the world who cared about her disappeared from view, because of what she said. With that, Clem felt utterly alone. Looking up at the drab overcast sky, she thought all she needed now was for it to start raining again.

"What happened?" asked Cookie as he sat down next to Clem.

"I… I said…" Clementine felt her chest tighten. She could barely breathe as she thought about what she just said.

"Does this have something to do with Carlos?" asked Cookie. "I heard Bill say this morning he was plotting something and Sarah stopped him?"

"She was probably afraid he was going to hurt someone," realized Clem. "But Bill ended up hurting Carlos over it, right in front of Sarah."

"Hurt how?" Clementine turned to the man, clearly already disturbed by what little he heard.

"You don't want to know," assured Clem.

"God dammit…" Looking at Cookie, Clementine noticed how bothered he was by what she said. A little like Gertrude, she was beginning to think he did actually care about other people, and regretted being so rude to him. Seeing him sit there, hunched over in his chair, Clem realized he had little more control over things than she did.

"Do you really want to help us?" asked Clem in a sincere voice.

"I'd like to, but—"

"You're just the cook," finished Clem in disappointment. She started scratching the bandage on her arm again, then realized something. "Could you at least take me to Carlos?"

"I can't do that. I—"

"Please?" begged Clem. "My arm has stitches in it that need to come out. Can't you, make up an excuse or something?"

"I don't know, it would depend on who's watching Carlos today," explained Cookie. "If it's Maude you can just forget it. She never bends the rules."

"I think it's Lloyd," recounted Clem in a bitter voice.

"He's as about as nice as the crew gets, and he's usually laid back." Clem found herself annoyed at hearing Lloyd being called nice after what she had discovered, and didn't relish having to go through him to get to Carlos, but she saw little other option.

"Can you please try? I don't think Sarah's coming back, so I'm the only person you need to take care of right now."

Cookie took a deep breath. "I can try, but I can't guarantee anything."

"Please try."

Cookie stood up. "Come on." Clementine followed Cookie. She felt nervous as they moved across the yard, fearful of running into one of the members of the crew. As they approached the hospital container, Clem saw Lloyd standing out front and frowned.

"Hello Cookie," greeted Lloyd in a friendly voice. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," assured Cookie. "Is Carlos in there?"

"Yeah, he's been shuffling around in there," explained Lloyd. "Don't think he's feeling all that well though. Did you need him to do something?"

"I'm all right, but…" Cookie looked down at Clem. "The girl here has some stitches she needs looking at, and I was thinking Carlos could check her out real quick."

"Now you know the rules Cookie, the hospital is off limits to people in the pen unless Bill or Gene says otherwise." Clementine frowned as she realized Lloyd wasn't going to let her see Carlos. "Sorry there darling." Lloyd's smile made Clementine want to scream. She thought about yelling in the older man's face about how she knew why he was smiling at her. But then she got a better idea.

"Please," begged Clementine in the most pathetic voice she could summon. "My arm really really hurts, and I'm worried something's really wrong with it, and if someone doesn't look at it, I could get really sick and die." Clem covered her eyes with her hands and started making crying noises, something she found fairly easy to do.

"Now now darling, don't cry." Unhappy with that response, Clementine decided to start crying even louder, doing her best to imitate Sarah's horrible breakdown from earlier. "All right, all right, just calm down." Clementine started crying softer, but refused to stop outright until she got the answer she wanted. "Okay, as long as he just looks at it. He can't use any of our supplies, but if he just checks it, that should be okay."

"Thank you," said Clementine as sweetly as she could, trying not to let her disgust for Lloyd show.

"Cookie, stay out here with me," instructed Lloyd. "If someone else needs to see Carlos I can send you in to cover her being in there."

"All right," said Cookie. "Go on now." Lloyd cracked the door to the container and Clementine slipped in. Hunched over a table was Carlos, slowly writing something on a pad of paper. The pillow case covering the left side of his face had been replaced with a small bundle of bandages held in place with an eye patch.

"Carlos?"

The man set his pen down and turned his head. "Clementine?" he asked in a quiet voice. "What… why are you here?"

"Cookie brought me here because the stitches in my arm are bothering me," explained Clem. "Lloyd said it be okay if you looked at them, as long as you didn't use any of the supplies."

"Oh…" Carlos turned back to the pad of paper in front of him. "Okay then."

"Um, you don't have to, if you don't feel good," said Clem, suddenly feeling that her troubles paled in comparison to Carlos's.

"Just sit down," instructed Carlos. "I could use a break from this anyway." Carlos pushed the pad of paper aside.

"What were you doing?" asked Clementine as she sat down.

"Writing instructions for… which tools do what… and as many medical procedures I think others could do without me." Carlos began to unravel Clementine's worn bandage.

"Bill wants to get rid of you," realized Clem.

"Of course," concurred a defeated Carlos.

"Then why do it?" asked Clem. "Why make it easier for him?"

"We saw what happened the last few times I didn't make things easy for him," mused Carlos. "Besides, once I'm gone, and there's no doctor, if anything happens to Sarah, these could make the difference between her living or not." Clementine felt sick as she realized Carlos had already resigned himself to his fate. "When I heard someone crying just now, I thought it may have been her, and I'd get to see her again."

"It was just me. I had to convince Lloyd to let me see you. Christa says my stitches are probably ready to come out." Removing the bandage, Clem looked at the fresh scar running across her arm, and the pieces of fishing line still embedded in her skin.

"I can remove the stitches. It won't require anything but tools I already have," assured Carlos. "You'll have to be patient though. Between the injury, and the lack of food, I've had a little trouble with simple tasks today."

"It's fine." Clementine watched as Carlos took some tweezers and scissors. His hand shook a little as he grabbed the first stitch with the tweezers, then snipped it with the scissors. Clementine flinched a little as she felt the stitch being pulled out of her skin.

"It was supposed to be temporary," Carlos mumbled to himself.

"The stitches?" asked Clem.

"No, well, them too, yes. But I meant, this place, Shaffer's, all of it, it was all supposed to be temporary. The cities were overrun so quickly, but then I saw people gathering here from the road, and thought the same thing most of them did, that we'd be safe here.

"In those first few days, we all thought we just needed to wait until rescue came. When it didn't come, Carver started making preparations to stay longer, thinking with the way things are, it might take weeks to be rescued. When it didn't come then, people grew restless. Some left, and some of them came back later, wanting to take what was still here. So, Carver made preparations for that.

"As the months went by, Carver found more and more that needed to be done. We needed a wall, to keep things out. We needed a pen, to keep certain people in. Then we needed a fence on top of the wall, to keep everyone in. Then we needed to bring people out there, back here, so we know they wouldn't be lying in wait for us later. And with every change, I kept telling myself, it's all just temporary."

"You told Sarah that Bill changed," said Clementine. "Was that true?" Carlos slowly shook his head.

"He hasn't changed, he's never cared what happens to the rest of us. Even in those first few days, when he was breaking open the shipping containers, he wasn't looking for food for the rest of us, he was looking for things he wanted, like a boy opening his Christmas presents early. Whereas the rest of us were always praying for this nightmare to end, Carver always seemed comfortable with it.

"Back then, we didn't really think much of it, or simply didn't have time to think about it. Every day it seemed like there was a new challenge, and Carver was always quick to delegate tasks, and it always seemed like things that needed to be done. Over time, it just became routine. Things eventually did change, but Carver never did, he's still just running us about for his own whims. We just know it now."

"Then why is he still in charge then?" asked Clem. "Nobody seems to like how he runs things. Why hasn't someone done something?"

"There's George for one," reminded Carlos. "Pete once told me that Carver was the only one he would listen to, and even then, not always. Even without Carver, we'd still have George. Beyond them we have the rest of the crew. There's no telling what some of them would do if left to their own devices.

"The other reason people still follow Carver was the same reason I did for so long. Because I had something to lose for defying him. For most, it's probably just their own safety, but for me, it was Sarah's. When this place couldn't even allow a kind girl like Sarah to live peacefully anymore, it had nothing left to offer me." Carlos seemed to be on the verge of crying. "She must be so scared right now…"

"She is," spoke Clem, guilt hanging in her voice.

"I can't even imagine. She's always been so sensitive."

"She told me about what happened, in the second grade."

"Did she?" Clem nodded. "I was called in for an emergency that afternoon and didn't discover what happened until I got home late that evening. She was just lying in bed, still crying to herself. She wouldn't even tell me what happened, I had to call her school the next morning to find out.

"I remember thinking to myself, how could so many, be so cruel, to an innocent girl who had done nothing wrong to any of them?" Carlos looked at the remaining stitches on Clementine's arm and sighed.

"Living here, I told myself, I'd be cruel as long as it meant Sarah could remain kind. I lived like that for so long, I figured that's simply what everyone was like now. You simply become cruel, just to survive, and if I wanted to protect Sarah, I'd have to be crueler. Seeing you, aim that gun at Nick, I assumed you must be cruel. And yet, you've been kinder to Sarah than anyone." Clementine looked away from Carlos in shame.

"Actually… I got mad and yelled at her just before I came here." Carlos sighed deeply. "She ran off crying before I could tell her I was sorry."

"Why?" asked Carlos, merely disappointed instead of angry.

"It's just… everything. With, what happened with her telling Bill and—"

"Don't be angry at her," instructed Carlos. "Save your anger for Carver. Sarah's just the latest person to fall victim to his manipulative scheming. I still don't know how she even knew about the guns."

"That's my fault too. She was scared she was going to starve, because they weren't going to feed her tomorrow. I told her we had guns, and we were going to escape. Then she got upset when she found out you'd have to shoot Byron. You told me not to tell her, and I did it anyway. It's… this is all my fault," realized a saddened Clementine. "Not hers."

"Like I said, blame Carver. But if you must blame someone for what Sarah did, blame me," suggested Carlos. "She must have told Carver what I was doing for the same reason she didn't tell me about what she did for you, because she saw something wrong and just wanted to help.

"I should have been honest with her. Told her how Byron killed Walter, and how he'd kill her if he ever had to, and this was our only chance to leave this place. But I didn't. I want to say, it's because I didn't want to scare her, but truthfully, I think I just didn't want her to be scared of me."

"Was is true what Bill said?"

"What did he say?"

"After he hit you, he told Sarah about what happened to me, and then he said he saw you let people die, just because you didn't want to waste supplies." Carlos turned away from Clem.

"He made you do it, didn't he?"

"Like a lot of things here, it started simple enough. In those first few days, I tried saving as many as I could. Then we found out if you die in any way, you come back as a lurker. I spent hours trying to stop one man's bleeding, but couldn't save him. And then he came back, and killed one I had saved. After that, Carver said not to treat anyone with a likely fatal injury, ruling it as too big a risk, and I told myself, I couldn't save everyone.

"As our initial supplies dwindled, Carver told me to not treat anyone who will require extensive ongoing care, and I told myself, it was just triage, I had to save those with the best chances.

"Then eventually he made it clear I was to euthanize anyone with an injury that would prevent them from working for any major length of time, and by then, I told myself, there was nothing I could do. If I didn't kill them, Carver would find someone else who would. It's probably the same thing a lot of people tell themselves now."

"Carver also told Nick that Pete killed people, just because there wasn't room," explained Clem. "Is that true?"

"I wouldn't know, but I wouldn't be surprised. Talking to some of the crew, everyone always worked in pairs on supply runs, except Pete or George. Supposedly it's because they scouted areas for the crew to work in, but if they were killing survivors too, then it'd be easier to conceal if there were no other witnesses."

"That also means Byron did kill Walter," said Clem in a quiet voice.

"He came to me the morning after Walter left, needing me to stitch a wound on his shoulder. He said he got it that morning, but it had clearly been there a little longer. Looking at it, I'm almost certain someone tried to stab him in the back."

"You think Walter did it?"

"Perhaps Walter understood my warning, attacked Byron before he could attack him. Or maybe he did it to Byron while struggling for his life against the man."

"Maybe he got away then?"

"Maybe, but in either case, it means Byron was meant to kill someone who never harmed anyone else, at least, not before then."

"Maybe… maybe he didn't do it," suggested a hopeful Clementine. "He stopped Bill when he was hitting you. He didn't shoot Sarah when George told him to. Maybe, maybe he hurt himself, to make it look like Walter fought him off so Bill would believe him."

"Or maybe, he hated the idea of killing a good man, only to go through with it anyway," said Carlos.

"Did you have to do that?"

"Yes," answered Carlos in a quiet voice. "The walls, the fence, the pen, our homes, Cookie's shack, the rainwater collectors, the windows on the tops of the containers, the fireplaces inside them, the locks and latches on the doors, the gate. He built them all."

"Who did?"

"A man named Winslow," answered Carlos. "He was an older man, worked with metal nearly his whole life. Welding, galvanizing, scrapping, molding. He could build most anything with an acetylene torch and enough scrap.

"As we emptied the containers, he was the one who realized they could still be useful to us. He devised most everything that helped turn this shipping yard into a safe haven, and more often than not, by his own hands. He was a brilliant man, who gave us so much, and never even asked for anything in return."

"And Bill wanted you to kill him?"

"Eventually, Winslow built everything we needed, or, everything Carver thought we would ever need. So he joined the crew and did supply runs, so he could keep helping. One day, they brought him to me, with a severely broken leg. I set it the best I could, but it would never heal entirely, not with what little I had to mend it with, but he would have lived."

"But Carver didn't want him to?"

"He told me, that it was kinder to give him a painless death, than to let him suffer. But he wasn't suffering, and even if he was, it wasn't why he told me to do it. Winslow was simply no longer any use to him, so he wanted him gone, the same man who had given so much to so many. And I obliged him, simply because I thought, if I didn't, someone else would."

Carlos finished reapplying Clem's bandage. "Normally I'd give you a fresh bandage, but they'd notice that. So you should just keep this one."

"You're already done?" asked Clem.

"Yes, just keep your arm covered a little longer, let the spots where the stitches were heal up completely." Carlos carefully peeled back the bandage on Clementine's forehead. "These can come off. I'm surprised they've stayed on this long." Carlos removed the small brace taped to Clementine's nose. She had actually forgotten she was still wearing it.

"Well, that's it then." Carlos tossed the brace aside. "If you see Sarah again, tell her I love her, and that I'm sorry, for everything."

"Why… why not tell herself?" asked Clem.

"I honestly don't know if they'll let me live long enough to see that happen," explained a desolate Carlos. "Perhaps if I do everything they say, they'll let me stay long enough to see Sarah one last time."

"You…" Clem looked over at the door, then leaned in closer to Carlos. "You're not going to try to escape again? I could get more guns and—"

"He'd be ready for it," mumbled Carlos. "And even if we did escape, what would we do then? Like Nick said, there's nowhere to go, especially if another herd is coming."

"A herd?"

"Byron and Harry left early this morning to survey the Savannah area. Sometimes, thunderstorms lure large numbers of lurkers out of the city, and bring them to this area. If that happens, there'd be no point in escaping. Even if they keep going, they leave lurkers behind everywhere. Last time it happened, it took the crew working every day for a week to merely clear out areas they had already made safe before. What chance would we have?" Clementine thought to herself, then leaned in close to Carlos.

"I know a way to get past the walkers."

Carlos looked to Clementine in surprise. He quickly eyed the door, then turned back to her. "How?" he whispered.

"If you cover yourself in… that gross stuff they're made out of, you smell like them, and then they don't notice you anymore."

Carlos briefly eyed the door again, then turned back to Clem. "You're certain?"

"It's how I got out of Savannah," whispered Clem. "The herd won't be a problem, if we can just get out of here."

"The herd is how we can get out of here," realized a reinvigorated Carlos. "After the first time a herd came near, someone shot a lurker over the wall, brought tons of them to us, nearly overwhelmed Shaffer's. Now Carver forbids the use of guns when a herd is near. He makes the crew surrender them so they can be locked in the armory to prevent an accident."

"What about the truck they use to block the gate?" asked Clem.

"They don't do that before a herd passes through. The noise of starting it draws all the stragglers right to the gate the next day, makes it difficult for them to deal with. If a herd comes through, you could slip out again, open the gate to the pen, and—"

"We could just walk right out," realized Clem.

"Now if we could just be lucky enough for a herd to come here before Carver kills us."

"It looks like it's going to storm again tonight."

"Pray for it to move north, across Savannah and right towards us." Carlos checked the door once more. "Next time you see Sarah, tell her, if a herd comes, wait for Carver to lock down the warehouse, then sneak out and wait for us by the pen." Clem nodded. "You'd better go, they're probably waiting for you." Clementine hopped out of her seat and went right for the door, pushing it open.

"Well there she is," noted Lloyd as he saw Clem emerge from the container. "Was starting to wonder if we would ever see you again."

"You feel any better?" asked Cookie.

"Yeah," nodded Clem. "A lot actually."

"Well that's good," smirked Lloyd. "Now, put your arms out so—"

"I don't want you touching me," hissed Clementine.

"Well darling, I gotta search you for—"

"I don't want you doing it," dictated Clementine.

"Now, is that anyway to talk to someone who just did you a favor?" asked an offended Lloyd. "Why the hostility?"

"You're a pedophile." Lloyd's eyes nearly bugged out of his head upon hearing that.

'Wait, what?" Cookie turned to Lloyd, shocked at what he heard.

"Now, little lady," said Lloyd, trying to sound calm. "Do you even know what that word means?"

"It means somebody who has sex with kids," noted Clem.

"I'm not doing that, I just gotta search you for—"

"You liked touching me though," noted an angry Clem. "That's why you offered me food after the last time. You wanted to do more. You… you wanted to rape me, didn't you?"

"Offered her food?" Cookie stared at Lloyd, anger boiling onto his face as the older man just stood there, paralyzed by the accusation. "Don't tell me you—"

"I… I don't know what's she talking about," assured an incredibly nervous Lloyd.

"Yes you do," retorted Clem.

"There's only one reason anyone on the crew offers people in the pen anything." Cookie glared at Lloyd.

"Look, neither of you should even be here. Just… just take her and go on already, before someone starts wondering why she's even here." Clementine moved to Cookie, who kept staring at Lloyd as he walked away. Lloyd however appeared wounded, and leaned against the container for support, like he could barely remain standing without it.

"You weren't making that up just now, right?" asked a deeply concerned Cookie as they headed back to the kitchen area. "Lloyd actually offered you food?"

"After he searched me, he said I was nothing but skin and bones," recalled a bitter Clementine. "So I told him they should feed us more, and he said he could get me something if I was hungry."

"Jesus," said Cookie. "Okay, I tell Gene and—"

"Gene already knows."

"What?"

"I told him and Bill about it yesterday, after Adam killed Mick, and before Bill hurt Carlos."

"And they didn't care?" asked Cookie in disbelief.

"I think Gene did, but Bill probably didn't," said Clem.

"God dammit… " Cookie lurched towards one of the chairs sitting in front of the lunch tables, almost looking as if he was going to fall over before he sat down. Clementine watched as the man rested his head in his hands, evidently crushed by this revelation.

"I'm… I'm okay," assured Clementine. "I told him I didn't want the food, so nothing happened." Cookie appeared no less despondent upon hearing that. Looking at the nearest table, Clem noticed one of Cookie's pans sitting out. "So, why are iron pans better?" asked Clem as she picked up the pan. "You said, it was because you only have to season them once, or something?"

"You don't need to worry about that," spoke Cookie in a resigned voice as he slowly stood up. "Just, get some rest. I'll tell them you did everything I wanted if they ask." Cookie shuffled back towards his shack.

"What are you doing?" asked Clem.

"I'm gonna get an early start on dinner," answered Cookie as walked into his kitchen. "Lot of rice to cook." Clem moved over to the edge of the shack and peered inside. She watched as Cookie started arranging pieces of wood under the two stoves.

"Um… do you want any help?" asked Clem.

"Don't worry about it," assured Cookie. "You look like you've done enough work for one day as it is."

Clem stepped away from the shack for a moment, then stepped back in. "What if I wanted to help?"

"Do you want to help?"

"Um… yeah. I do, " answered Clem in a friendly voice. "Can I stay and help?"

Cookie smirked at her. "Sure," he answered. "Come on in."


	59. The Coming Storm

Despite her initial uninterest, Clementine enjoyed spending the rest of the afternoon with Cookie. While they worked, Cookie taught her a lot about cooking with just an open fire and iron cookware, how to make soup from letting vegetables simmer in water, how he used that and the ground up greens from Dr. Bostwick to season the rice they were cooking, as well as spice up the scrambled eggs he cooks, and also more about salt than Clementine ever realized there was to know.

The only cloud hanging over Clem's time with Cookie, other than the many literal ones that looked like they were ready to rain, was that Sarah was missing. Clementine still felt terrible for yelling at her, and was so ashamed that she never could find the nerve to tell Cookie that she was the reason Sarah ran off. Clem couldn't help thinking he wouldn't have offered to walk her back to the pen if he had known that. Looking up at the man, she still felt the need to tell him something else.

"Thanks Cookie," said Clem as they walked.

"No need to thank me precious," assured Cookie in a friendly voice. "It was great having you as a helper today."

"Thanks for taking me to Carlos too."

"Well you're welcome, but let's keep that on the down-low," instructed Cookie. "Just between us."

"Right, I won't tell anyone," promised Clem. "But I was wondering if I could ask you something?"

"What's that precious?"

"Can't we make more salt? You said you're worried about running out of it, but can't we make more of it? I mean, hasn't salt been around a really long time?"

"Well yeah, but I don't know how you make it. I think you mine it or something. And I think I remember in history class, salt used to be money or something in ancient times. That's how valuable it was."

"Wow," awed Clem. "Before the walkers, you could just get it everywhere, even for free at school or restaurants. But now that they're not making it anymore—"

"Yeah, it's like we're back in ancient times," noted Cookie. "But who knows, maybe the crew will bring back a salt miner or something. Tell us how it's done."

Looking ahead, Clementine spotted Tom standing near the entrance of the pen, talking to Maude. "You hear what Byron said about Savannah?" said Tom "That last storm really shook shit up down there."

"We'll be fine," assured Maude in a dismissive tone. "We have procedures in place for herds."

"Yeah, but listening to him, dude was trippin'. It sounded bad, and if it storms tonight, that shit might be shuffling right up our way." Clementine felt hopeful upon hearing that. Gazing up at the evening sky, it looked ready to start pouring any moment.

"Like I said, we have plans for such a thing. We'll be fine." Maude turned to Clementine and Cookie. "Cookie, why are you escorting her here?"

"Well, it was a short walk," reasoned Cookie. "I figured—"

"Anyone from the pen is supposed to be escorted to and from the pen by members of the crew only," lectured Maude.

"She's just a kid," reasoned Cookie as he looked at Clem. "I just thought we could talk a little along the way."

"I'll have to inform Mr. Carver." Maude reached for her radio.

"Really Maude?" asked Tom in disbelief.

"Yes really. We just had a major security breach here in case you forgot," she retorted in a harsh tone. "We won't have another on my watch." Maude pressed the talk button on her radio. "Mr. Carver, sir?"

"What is it Maude?" asked Bill.

"Cookie escorted one of the pen people here without a member of the crew."

"Which one?" asked Bill, sounding suspicious.

"Clementine." Clem tensed up as she waited for Bill to reply. She found the silence unnerving. "Sir?"

"Uh, yeah, I heard you Maude," answered Bill in a dismissive tone. "Great job staying on top of things—"

"I'm just doing my duty, sir," answered Maude, clearly aware of Bill's sarcasm. "Cookie you can go, we'll take it from here." Cookie eyed the fence that made up the pen, then looked down at Clementine, clearly disturbed at finally seeing her living conditions up close.

"Cookie, did you hear me?"

"Yeah," he said as he eyed the pen. "I hear you."

"Then leave already." Cookie briefly glared at Maude, then started walking away. "Is there some reason he seems to be so disrespectful this evening?"

Clementine pondered Maude's question. "Maybe he doesn't like you," she suggested.

"He'd hardly be the first," noted Tom.

"I'm not here to be liked," commented Maude. "You, arms out." Clementine sighed as Maude searched her. Unlike the pat downs she was used to, Maude hands made their way all over Clem's body, including in her pockets and briefly between her legs, much to Clementine's discomfort. She also had to open her mouth again so Maude could look in it with a flashlight, much like when she first arrived. After examining inside her hat, Maude handed it back and then went for the latch.

"Away from the door!" Clementine watched in surprise as Tom took a few steps back and aimed his gun at the entrance. Clem shuffled in and heard the gate slam behind her. Looking around, she saw the beds were in disarray. Mattresses were half hanging off the springs, pillows and blankets scattered about, and near the middle of the room, Clementine noticed her backpack sprawled out on the ground, her drawings and note scattered across the pavement.

"So, just you and me again." Clem looked over to see Matt sitting in the one bed that wasn't out of order. His face was covered in bruises and small bandages. Looking at him, Clem was surprised to see how badly she had injured the boy. "Admiring your work?"

"Hey!" Clem called to Tom and Maude. "He's going to try to kill me!"

"No he's not," dismissed Maude. "Any disorder of any kind on my watch and the offender will lose meal privileges tomorrow."

"Chill," spoke Matt in an oddly smug tone. "I'm just behaving myself."

Clementine started picking up her papers and her backpack. "Did you do this?" she asked.

"They did." Matt gestured to Tom and Maude. "New security procedures for us rotten pen people." Clementine zipped up her backpack, then moved to one of the beds. "How was work?"

"What do you care?" asked Clem as she cleaned up one of the beds.

"Just wondering how you liked it?" smirked Matt. "Sucks, doesn't it? And you only did a half day."

"How do you know?" retorted Clem.

"You'd be too tired to even talk to me right now if you had worked all day," asserted Matt. "Someone weak and tiny like you." Clem scowled, but refused to play into Matt's game. "Who'd you get?"

"Richard," answered Clem.

"Wow, they gave you the dick on your first day?" giggled Matt. "I bet he worked you good." Clementine had to resist the urge to lunge at Matt. "I would have volunteered for work if I had known I'd get to see Dick ride your sorry little ass every step of the way. I bet you were crying the whole time." Clementine rolled over on her bed, refusing to even look at Matt.

"You did, didn't you? I bet you cried the whole time. Did you pee your panties too?"

"Hey!" called Maude as she knocked on the fencing. "Keep it down in there."

"I've been here all day," spoke Matt in a hushed voice. "And you know what I realized? I don't have to kill you. The work will kill you worse than I ever could." Clementine gripped her pillow more tightly, finding it harder to ignore Matt. "You know, there are some nice guards." Clem realized Matt was probably just baiting her, but she found herself too curious to ignore him.

"Which ones?" she asked without turning around.

"There's one who's always nice to me. I can always just talk and not worry about getting yelled at with them."

"Who?"

"Felicity," snickered Matt. "You saw what happened to her." Clementine put her pillow over her head, trying to block out Matt's voice. "Then there was this other guy." The pillow didn't work. "He acted all tough, but anytime I played sick, he always ended up feeling real sorry for me. If we were alone, he'd usually do a lot of my work for me. Do you want to know what happened to him?"

"What?" asked Clem, figuring Matt wouldn't leave her alone until she asked.

"He sleeps in the bed next to yours at night."

Clem rolled over. "Nick?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, that guy is a total sucker," giggled Matt. "Too bad he's in here now."

"What's your point?" asked an annoyed Clementine.

"Point is, I only made it this far because some of the guards were saps. But we're just about out of those. All we got left is Lloyd and maybe Tom, and even if he's not an asshole, he'll still work you." Matt turned to the fence "Right Tom?"

"Keep quiet," ordered Tom without turning around.

"And, I'm bigger and stronger than you," reminded Matt. "So how far do you think someone as weak as you will last?"

"I'm not going to fight you again," insisted Clem.

"You don't have to," smiled Matt. "Gene told me, tomorrow is our last class." Clementine felt her heart race as she thought about what would happen once school was over. "I can't wait." Matt rolled over on his mattress, grinning ear to ear.

Clem tried to rest until the others came back, but couldn't. Instead, she straightened up the other beds to occupy her time. While fixing the last bed, Clementine noticed Sarah's jacket on the ground, still lying where she left it yesterday. Clementine picked it up and examined it, then decided to put it on. The sleeves were far too long, but Clementine found it very warm, so she decided to leave it on for the night.

The others were brought back to the pen one by one, with Carlos being the last one to return. Edmund brought supper not long after that. After Maude shut off the light and left everyone in the dark, Clementine, Christa and Nick all removed a few small pieces of food from their mouths.

"What… what is this?" asked Carlos as Nick offered him a radish.

"It was Clementine's idea," explained Nick. "It's best not to think about where it came from though."

"If you do have to think about it, just remember it's better than not eating," suggested Christa as she offered the hungry man a few pieces of lettuce.

"Thank you, both of you," said Carlos as he took the morsels to eat. Clementine could see Matt sitting in the dark, watching them. She looked at the two radish slices she had saved, then moved over to him.

"You didn't get to eat today either," realized Clem. "So, why don't you take mine." Clem held out the slices for the boy.

"I don't want anything from any of you," stated Matt.

"Just take it," insisted Clem.

"I said I don't need anything!" Matt knocked the slices out of Clem's hands. Clementine felt around in the dark for the lost food, but found nothing. She was about to stand up, when there was a flash of lightning. In the brief flash of light, Clem saw the radish slices. She scooped them up just as a crack of thunder sounded in the distance.

"That sounded like it came from the south," noted a hopeful Carlos.

"Here." Clem offered the radishes to Carlos. "They touched the ground, but—"

"It's fine," said Carlos as he took the slices. "It's the least of my worries right now."

"You assholes do that again and I'll tell the guards," threatened Matt. "I would tell them about this tomorrow, but they wouldn't believe me without proof." Matt lay down on his bed.

"We could give you food too," noted an irritated Clementine.

"Like I said, I don't want anything from any of you." Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the pen, followed by another clap of thunder.

"They were a little closer together this time," noted Carlos, sounding pleasantly surprised. "The storm is moving this way," he whispered as he lay down. Clementine found her way into Christa's bed and cuddled up to the woman. Between the blanket, Sarah's jacket and Christa holding her, Clementine actually felt warm for once. As she lay there, the sound of rain hitting the pavement filled the area.

"Gotta love this winter weather," quipped a glib Christa.

"Yeah, you do," said a sincere Clementine.

"You sound almost happy." Clem moved in close to Christa.

"The storm might bring a herd to this place, and then we can escape," whispered Clem.

"What?" whispered Christa. "If a herd of those things come here, we've got more to be worried about than this place."

"No we don't," assured Clem. "All we have to is cover ourselves in that smelly stuff that comes out of walkers, then we'll smell like them, and they'll leave us alone. And Bill's people don't know about this, so they can't follow us, and they can't use their guns either, or it'll bring the herd here."

"Wait, since when can you can get by walkers by smelling like them?" asked Christa.

"Lee figured it out. It was how I got out of Savannah."

"That's why you were covered in blood that day. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I… I guess I just didn't want to think about that day again," confessed Clementine. "Then we moved into the cabin, and it didn't seem to matter anymore."

"I understand. But, you're sure about this, right? None of the walkers tried to attack you?"

"One did, but it was after I broke a window in front of it, so you still have to be quiet. But that was it. I walked for hours, and past hundreds of them. I kept thinking it would stop working at some point, but it didn't. Then I found you and Omid."

"And now you want to do it again," Christa murmured.

"It'll work."

"I believe you. I'm just not looking forward to going back out there."

"It'll be better than staying here."

"Yeah, hopefully…" Christa took a breath. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"Just Carlos. But he wants me to tell Sarah to meet us outside the pen if a herd comes."

"Don't."

"What?"

"It's too big a risk to tell Sarah. She might let it slip what we're planning."

"I don't think she'd do that, again," answered an uncertain Clem.

"But she might."

"But, we can't just leave her."

"She'll be okay. She's out of the pen now, they're feeding her, and she's lived here before."

"But—"

"Clem, I know you care about her. I care too. But you have to think about what's best for her."

"It's better for her to be here than with us?" asked a defiant Clem.

"If being with us means going back out there, yeah, it might," answered a conflicted Christa. "You and I both know there's worse things out there than the people living here, and for someone like her… she's struggling as it is just living here. What would happen if we make her leave, and she ends up being exposed to even worse than what she's seen here?"

"She'd… I…" Clem found herself paralyzed as she thought back to all the horrible sights that she couldn't forget, no matter how hard she tried.

"I don't even want you to have to go back out there. Sarah may have even told Bill about the plan because she didn't want to leave, and if she did, it wouldn't be right to force her to come with us."

"But, Carlos said—"

"He doesn't know for sure what Bill's plans are. Bill might just let Sarah live outside the pen to make Carlos cooperate, because he knows Carlos would do it as long as Sarah is safe."

"I… I don't know."

"Look, we don't even know if there will be a herd soon and Bill seems to have a way of finding these things out, so the less people who know, the better. And even if you don't tell Sarah, we still have the option to get her on the way out. So for now, it's better if you don't tell her what we're planning."

Clementine sighed. "Yeah, that makes sense," she conceded.


	60. Parting Lessons

Clementine covered her mouth and coughed. Her throat had been feeling scratchy ever since she woke up this morning, and it was really starting to annoy her. Gene's lesson on someone who got lost in the Antarctic wasn't doing much to comfort her either. Looking around, it didn't do much for the others. Bridget was clearly bored, Matt looked like he was sleeping, and Sarah was lying her head on the desk. Seeing that Gene was busy writing something on the whiteboard, Clem sensed an opportunity.

"Sarah?" whispered Clem. "Sarah," repeated Clem a little louder. Sarah didn't move, simply remaining still with her head on the desk. "Sarah, I'm sorry about yesterday. I—"

"Clementine," called an annoyed Gene. "Can you please not talk during my lesson?"

"I'm sorry." Looking at the rest of class, Gene realized Clementine was hardly the only one not paying attention.

"Okay, apparently none of you are all that invested today, so I'll just give you the short version." Gene took a deep breath. "Douglas Mawson charted an expedition to Antarctica. He and two others went out, one of them stepped over a hidden crevasse, plunged to his death, along with most of their sled dogs and supplies.

"That left Douglas and his friend with almost nothing to cover over three hundred miles across the most inhospitable terrain on the planet to their expedition's base on the coast. His friend made it about two hundred miles, then died, leaving Douglas to make the rest of the journey alone. At one point he fell into a crevasse himself, saved only by his sled being stuck on the snow. And—"

"And he lived," grumbled an annoyed Matt. "Big fuckin' deal. The other two guys didn't. Nobody remembers them."

"Their names were Xavier Mertz and Belgrave Ninnis," retorted Gene. "They had crossed several crevasses that day, and Mertz was signaling Mawson about yet another one, right before Ninnis fell. The two men spent hours calling into the abyss, hoping against all hope Ninnis was still alive.

"Mawson and Mertz had to survive by eating the sled dogs that collapsed from exhaustion, and feeding what was left to the surviving dogs so they could keep pulling the sled. Eventually it was just them, and Mertz was the one who couldn't go on. Mawson pulled Mertz along on the sled during the day, tried feeding him that evening, only for Mertz to die the next morning.

"After burying Mertz, Mawson had to go on alone. His body was covered in sores, his hair falling out, the soles of his feet had simply come off completely. He had to tape them back on, then put on every pair of socks he had left just so there was enough cushioning to make the pain slightly less agonous." Clementine watched as Sarah lifted her head up, her face making it clear how disturbing she found this story.

"When he fell into a crevasse, and found himself hanging over an abyss, Mawson forced himself to climb back to the edge of the cliff. When he reached the lip, it broke off from the rest of the ice, and took Mawson with him. Once again he was hanging over an abyss just by the rope tied to his sled."

"But he got out anyway," mocked Matt. "Because he so's badass."

"Actually, by his own account, Mawson said he thought about just letting go of the rope," narrated Gene. "He only had a few scraps of food left, eighty miles left to go, and the Aurora, the ship that brought the expedition team to the Antarctic, had been scheduled to leave by now. And because of how dangerous just sailing to the Antarctic is, the ship wouldn't return until next year. Between that and the agony he was in, letting go and ending everything seemed like the natural choice."

"Why didn't he?" asked Clementine.

"He said he recalled a verse from his favorite poem. 'Just have one more try, it's dead easy to die. It's the keeping-on-living that's hard."

"But how did he get back home when he had no food and the boat was gone?" asked a dispirited Sarah.

"About thirty miles out from the base, he spotted something covered in a black cloth. It was a message and food left by one of the search parties that went looking for him and the others. When he finally returned to camp, he saw the Aurora, sailing off into the horizon. But he also saw people waiting for him. Six men had stayed behind, willing to brave another year in the Antarctic, just on the off chance that Mawson or one of the other men had survived."

"So, in the end he just got lucky?" scoffed Bridget.

"Real lucky," grumbled Matt. "That's the only reason this guy lived and his friends didn't."

"It was a reason, but not the only one," argued Gene. "The hard truth is life simply isn't fair. You can't always get what you want, sometimes there isn't a solution, and your hard work might not always pay off."

"Especially in this place," griped Matt.

"But sometimes it does," asserted Gene, ignoring Matt's comment. "Never giving up doesn't guarantee you success, but it does guarantee you as many chances at success as possible, and, with a little luck, one of them might be exactly what you wanted, but you'll never find it out if you don't keep trying." Gene took a breath and looked out at the class.

"I guess if you've learned anything from your time with me, I'd like it to be that," he said in a sober tone. "I don't suppose there are any questions." The class remained silent, but Clementine slowly raised her hand. "Yes?"

"You said that part about living being hard was from a poem?" asked Clementine. "Which one?"

"It was from a Robert Service poem, ironically called The Quitter," smirked Gene. "Would you like to hear it?" Clem nodded. "When you're lost in the wild, and you're scared as a child, and Death looks you bang in the eye, and you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle, to cock your revolver and die. But—" The container doors swung open and Tom burst into the classroom.

"What's going on?" asked Gene.

"A herd is what's going on." Clementine's ears perked up upon hearing those words. "Byron and Harry just called back, a shit load of lurkers are moving out of Savannah and in our direction. Probably pass by us this evening. Bill said brief the kids on what's happening, then send them home earlier. Then come find us, we're going to need your help convincing Poison Ivy to leave her lair." Tom left in a rush, not even bothering to close the door.

"All right class, don't panic. This isn't the first herd we've had come through and it sounds like the crew spotted it with plenty of time to prepare. Might not even come near us, and even if it does, all we have to do is keep quiet. The walls will keep the lurkers out and as long as we're quiet they'll pass right by us.

"Bridget, Sarah, just go to your rooms, I'll take Matt and Clem back to the pen. All of you will be delivered lunch and an early dinner later, and you're to stay put until one of us tells you it's all clear. Probably sometime tomorrow morning. Just think of it as a day off."

"Works for me," commented Matt as he stood up.

"Something cool finally happens and I got to stay in my room," grumbled Bridget as she moved to the door. Clementine watched as Sarah shuffled to the entrance.

"Wait, Sarah." Clem's call halted the older girl.

"Come on Clem," urged Gene as he took her by the hand.

"I need to tell Sarah something first," insisted Clem as she resisted Gene's attempts to move her towards the door.

"Well, then tell her and let's get moving." Clementine flinched as she realized she couldn't tell Sarah about the escape plan out loud in front of the others.

"I… I just want to talk to her for a little bit," explained Clem.

"Well, you can do that some other time, now come on." Gene grabbed Clem's hand and started pulling her towards the door.

"No, please. Just let me talk to her for a minute, please." Gene pulled Clem through the tunnel and back into the yard, despite Clem's protests.

"Gene?" Gene stopped and turned around to see Sarah approaching him. "Maybe I could just take Clementine to my room?"

"I'm sorry Sarah, but no," said Gene. "Bill's very clear about pen people remaining in the pen, a hard situation would be no exception."

"Not even for a few minutes?"

"Sarah…"

"I know you can't let me see my dad, because of what he did," sniveled Sarah. "But can't I just spend a few minutes with my best friend? I'm really scared and… and I feel better when she's around." Clementine felt touched to hear Sarah still call her best friend, despite what she said yesterday.

"God, would you just grow up already?" suggested a disgusted Bridget. "You think Gene cares—"

"Bridget, just go." Bridget was clearly annoyed at Gene's order, but left without another word.

"Now if I let Clementine go with you, that means you're responsible for her. Understand?" Sarah nodded at Gene. "She's not to leave your sight until I or someone from the crew comes to take her to the pen. Can you handle that?"

"Yes," assured Sarah in a meek voice.

"Okay, take her straight to your room." Gene released Clementine, who quickly moved to Sarah's side. "I'll tell them you're both running an errand for me and that they can find Clem with you when you're done. You got as much time as it takes until they come to get her. Understand?" Sarah nodded. "All right, go on." Clem felt Sarah's hand grasp hers, giving Clem a familiar sense of comfort. Together they started walking across the yard.

"Like you'd ever do something like that for me," Clem heard Matt say before fading from earshot. As the pair moved across the yard, Clem saw various people running to and from, and was fearful one of them would stop and ask where they were going. But none of them did, all far too preoccupied with other matters.

As they moved across the front of the warehouse, Clementine observed the rows of cargo containers beside it, complete with metal chimneys attached to the tops of them. There must have been a dozen in each row, and passing between them Clementine noticed some of them had words spray painted on the sides of them. Mostly names, some she recognized, some she didn't, and some of them were crossed out. One that caught Clem's eyes was 'Winslow' written in big yellow letters on a blue container, and the large red cross painted over it.

"Give me a minute to open the windows." Sarah opened the door to her container and grabbed what looked like an aluminum pole leaning near the entrance. As Sarah pushed open the first cover, Clementine looked at the stacks upon stacks of books lined up against the side of the container. There had to be nearly a hundred of them, if not more.

"Did you read all of these?" asked Clementine, stunned at the sheer volume of literature neatly piled up in front of her.

"Yeah," answered Sarah in a quiet voice. "There wasn't much else for me to do." Sarah opened the next cover, shining light on the fireplace and a pair of plastic chairs in front of it. Examining it, Clem couldn't help admiring its craftsmanship. The wood was kept in a neatly made metallic container, and above it was a long tube that ran right into the ceiling, funneling the smoke out.

Opening the last cover revealed a bed tucked into one corner of the container and a curtain covering the other. The bed was clearly nicer than the ones in the pen. The mattress looked much more comfortable, and the pillows and blanket looked more accommodating as well. However, it was only slightly wider than the beds in the pen.

"What's this?" Clementine peeked behind the curtain. There was a small stool and a pot with a couple of rags and a brush in it. There was also a box-shaped plastic device with a toilet seat attached to it.

"It's just the bathroom," answered Sarah.

"Does that actually work?" asked Clem, pointing to the tiny toilet.

"Yeah, mostly," shrugged an indifferent Sarah. "You put water in it, and you can flush it by pushing this thing." Sarah pressed what looked like a button, which caused a small squirt of water to spray into the bowl. "It goes into a tank Edmund collects and empties. I think people used them for camping, or something." Clementine covered her mouth and coughed.

"Are you okay?" asked a concerned Sarah.

"Yeah, I think I just have a cold or something," explained Clem.

"I'll go start a fire, so you can keep warm." Sarah moved back to the fireplace. Clementine watched as Sarah pulled a metal tray out from under it. She dumped some ashes into a bin, then used some papers from the box next to it to line the tray. Sarah removed a couple of small slabs chained together from her pocket and started scraping one against the other.

"What's that?" asked Clementine.

"Um, some kind of fire starter," answered Sarah without looking up. "It's another thing people used when camping I think."

"Christa had this stick with a string tied around it for starting fires," said Clem. "You had to spin it really fast, and I never could do it fast enough to start a fire."

"Well, this is easy," assured Sarah as one of the pages caught fire. "Even I can do it." Sarah pushed the tray under the fireplace. The fire from the tray ignited more paper crushed under the logs. "I guess I've always just had it easy." Sarah pocketed the fire starter and sat down in the chair next to Clem.

"So, what did you want to tell me?" asked a drab Sarah, who couldn't even seem to muster the strength to look at Clementine.

"Well, first, I'm really sorry about what I said yesterday," professed Clem. "I—"

"Why?" asked a detached Sarah.

"Because it was a horrible thing to say," explained a guilt-stricken Clementine.

"It was true."

"What? No it wasn't."

"Yes it was," insisted Sarah in a quiet voice. "The people who live here. They were out killing other people, or working them until they starved, and doing all kinds of terrible things, and I just sat in here, where I never had to do anything. Where I always had food, and I was always safe, all because I'm selfish."

"You're not selfish," insisted Clementine.

"Yes I am," said Sarah in a matter-of-fact voice. "I had everything, when most people had nothing, and I still wanted more. I hated staying here. I wanted to go back to my own house. Sleep in my own bed. Eat my favorite foods again. And just do all the other things I used to like.

"And because I'm so selfish, my dad had to do terrible things, just for me. Then he was going to do something else terrible, just to keep me safe. And…" Sarah tensed up. "And now everything is worse, because of me. Because I was hungry, and Mr. Carver said he'd feed me if I told him anything he should know. I'm… I'm a terrible person." Clem leaned in close to Sarah, placing her hand on the weeping girl's shoulder.

"You didn't ask your dad to do those things. You didn't even know about them. You didn't hurt anyone, or take things from people, or do anything wrong other than make a mistake, and what Bill did was because he's the terrible person, not you," insisted Clem. "This isn't your fault."

"I want it to be my fault," admitted Sarah.

"What? Why?"

"Because, if it's not my fault, it's my dad's fault for lying to me, and everyone else who ever lied to me." Sarah turned towards Clem, a bitter look hanging on her face. Clem felt Sarah's glare intimidating, she'd never actually seen her angry before. "You've lied to me too, haven't you?"


	61. Hard Truths

"Why?" asked a furious Sarah. "Why have you been lying to me?"

Clementine turned away from Sarah. "Your dad told me and Christa to," she answered in a quiet voice.

"He wouldn't—" Sarah stopped mid-sentence, then grew angrier. "Of course he did," she said through clenched teeth. "It's not bad enough he lies to me, he tells everyone else to lie to me too." Clem turned back towards Sarah. "Well, my dad isn't here right now, so I want you to tell me the truth."

"About what?"

"Everything. Everything he made you lie to me about. Was it true what Mr. Carver said? Did my dad, just leave you to die?"

Clem sighed. "It's true."

"Oh God," gasped Sarah. "Why?"

"He thought my dog bite was a walker bite, so he had Nick lock me in the shed, and said I had to stay there all night."

"That's… that's why you wanted me to help you. Because you knew my dad wouldn't," realized Sarah. "What about the man Nick and Pete buried? You knew him didn't you? Was he your dad?"

"His name was Omid." Sarah went wide-eyed with horror. "Nick shot him because he was looking at your dad with a rifle scope, and thought he was going to shoot him."

"That's why your mom was so mad all the time. That's why she was pointing a gun at him at the lodge. And my dad was pointing one right back, he… he was really going to shoot her," realized a disgusted Sarah.

"He probably did let people die. I used to hear things when I lived here. I'd hear Mr. Carver talk about tragic losses in the morning, and when I'd ask my dad if there was anything he could have done, he'd always tell me he did everything he could. That was probably a lie too.

"I'd hear other things too. I'd hear gunshots, and people yelling and screaming, and anytime I'd ask him about it, he always told me it was nothing to worry about. That it was just lurkers.

"I heard your mom that first night in the cabin, yelling and banging on the wall, and when I asked him about that, he said she was just having a hard time. When I asked him what's wrong with her, he said he didn't know. That was lie. So was him saying you and your mom were letting us stay at that cabin too. They were forcing you, weren't they?" Clem nodded weakly.

"He's… he's probably been lying to me my whole life," realized a furious Sarah. "He'd lied to me about stupid stuff like Santa or the tooth fairy, and he lied about all these terrible things he did. He probably lied about my mom too. Maybe she never died, maybe she left him, or maybe he killed her!"

"Sarah," called Clem, alarmed by Sarah's outrage.

"Maybe he lied about the sun blowing up too. Maybe it'll just explode tomorrow and kill us all!"

"Sarah!" said Clem, frightened by Sarah's rambling. "Calm down."

"My… my dad's a bad person," realized a devastated Sarah.

"Sarah, your dad—"

"You can't say that you don't think he's a bad person, after what he did to you and your mom. I still remember that night. You were cold and wet and muddy and bleeding and scared, and you knew he didn't even care."

"He… he cares about you Sarah," spoke Clem in an uneasy voice. "He was just trying to protect you."

"That doesn't make it right. You can't just do terrible things and say it's okay because you want to protect someone."

Clementine sighed and thought to herself, trying to think of a way to reassure the older girl. "Sarah, I used to know a man who killed someone, before things changed."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. I think he was angry, but he went to jail because he did it, so he shouldn't have. But he also took care of me when my parents weren't there. He protected me, and fed me, and was nice to me, and taught me how to take care of myself better, all because he cared about me.

"And sometimes he still did things I didn't think were right. He took all this food and stuff from someone's car once, even though it may have belonged to someone else. I… I also saw him stab a man with a pitchfork right in front of me."

"Why would he do that?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"That man he stabbed was really really bad," recounted a sickened Clementine. "Worse than anyone here."

"So, he was protecting you?"

"No, he'd already stopped the man, but he did it anyway. And later he told me he shouldn't have," said Clem. "But he also did a lot of good things, and not just for me, for lot's of people."

"I don't think my dad has ever done anything good for anyone other than me."

Clementine looked to the door, making sure no one was waiting outside. "I took the guns," she whispered to Sarah.

"What?"

"I'm the one who took the guns," repeated Clem in a hushed voice. "Your dad told me to, but I agreed with him, and wanted to do it. He made up all that stuff about someone else helping him, and even when Bill said he'd shoot him, he still didn't tell him I did it."

"He… he did?" asked Sarah in disbelief.

"Yeah. I won't say your dad hasn't done bad things, but I think he wants to do good things too, and he has done some good, and not just for you. He even said he'd help Christa with the baby if we got out. I think even if someone does something bad, that doesn't mean they have to be a bad person."

"Like, when you beat up Matt?" asked Sarah.

"He wouldn't leave me alone, I didn't want to," insisted Clementine. "But I guess you don't believe me."

"I believe you," spoke a sincere Sarah. "It was just, scary, seeing you hurting him like that."

"I told him I'm was sorry about what I said. I told him I didn't want to fight. He grabbed my arms and wouldn't let me go.

"Even after I kicked him a few times, and he was on the ground, he kept saying he'd kill me, and I thought, if he gets back up, he would, so, I just had to make sure he didn't get back up…" Sarah looked at a fuming Clementine, noting the anger and fear in her eyes.

"I… I think I understand why my dad never wanted me to leave my room. You've only been here a week, and—"

"And what?" snapped Clem.

"It's like, you're changing," answered Sarah in a concerned voice. "You seem to be angry all the time now and you say really horrible things to people. It's like you're turning into someone different from who you were when we got here."

"I… I just…" Clementine found herself speechless as she thought about her actions over the last few days.

"And the worst part is, it feels like that's what they want. That they want us to be someone different, someone bad."

"Or they want us to die if we can't change," added a dreary Clem.

"Do… do you think that's what happened to my dad?" asked Sarah. "He became someone bad, so I wouldn't die?"

"He told me, he'd be cruel if it meant you could be kind," repeated Clem.

"When did he say that?"

"Yesterday. He also wanted me to tell you he loved you, and he's sorry for everything he did."

Sarah's head sank into her hands, a crushed look on her face. "I'm so stupid," she whispered.

"You're not stupid Sarah," insisted Clem. "You just made a mistake. We all make mistakes."

"Did you ever make a mistake that ruined everything for everyone you cared about?"

Clem turned away, suddenly feeling very insecure. "Yes…"

Sarah looked over at Clem, slumped over in her chair with a crestfallen look on her face. "You did?" asked Sarah, surprised by Clem's answer.

"I did. I trusted someone I shouldn't have. He told me he had…" Clem bit her lip, struggling to find the words. "He told me he had something I really needed. And even though it was impossible, and Christa and someone else I trusted told me not to believe him, I did anyways, just because I wanted it to be true."

"What did he have?"

"Just, something I needed," insisted a tearful Clem, unable to bring herself to admit the truth to Sarah. "And he didn't have it. It was lies, and I should have known, and… almost everyone I knew died trying to save me."

"Oh Clem… I… I'm so sorry."

"There's bad people who lie to you out there too Sarah," assured a wounded Clem.

"Yeah, everything's dangerous now. Just like you said."

Clementine turned back to Sarah, trying to figure out what the older girl was thinking. "Sarah?"

"I'm so confused," confessed an exhausted Sarah. "Everything… it… it's like nothing makes sense anymore."

"I know." Looking at the older girl, hunched over in her chair with a distressed look on her face, she appeared as if the weight of the world were bearing down on her, crushing her, which was something that felt all too familiar to Clem. "Sarah? Do you want to leave this place?"

"Does it matter now?"

"If you could leave, would you?"

"Well, I don't know."

"You don't?"

"Would my dad be there?"

"Yeah."

"Well, now that I know all these things, maybe he won't lie to me anymore. And if we went somewhere else, maybe he won't have to do bad things anymore," reasoned Sarah. "But, what about you? Would you be there?"

"Yeah. In fact, if everyone was there, would you want to leave?"

"Definitely."

"You're sure? It can be really bad out there too. There's even worse places than this one."

"Worse?" asked a nervous Sarah. "How?"

"Well, this place treats kids wrong, but there was a place in Savannah that wouldn't let kids stay at all."

"What? Why not?".

"Because they didn't think kids were helpful."

"That's… that's horrible."

"And there might be even worse than that," informed Clem. "Adam told me that if I had seen the worst, I wouldn't want to leave."

"Oh God. It's…"

"It's horrible," finished Clem. "It's probably why so many people here do bad things, because they don't want to live out there." Sarah suddenly became very quiet.

"Do… do you still want to leave?" asked Clem.

"Yeah… I do," answered Sarah.

"You're sure?"

"You said it's not all bad," reminded Sarah. "There's good people out there too, right?"

"We might not find any though," informed Clem in a sober voice.

"But we might. Like how we found Walter and Matthew."

"Yeah, they were great."

"And, I found you." Clementine saw Sarah smiling at her.

"And, I found you," repeated Clem to Sarah, returning the smile, only for Sarah to frown and turn away.

"But now they won't even let us be together most of the time," sighed Sarah. "And they're never going to let us leave either."

Clem looked towards the door, then once more leaned in close to Sarah. "Tonight, after Bill locks down the warehouse, wait for us by the pen," whispered Clem.

"What, why?"

"We're leaving. They can't use their guns because of the herd. So we can just walk right out."

"But, if there's a herd of lurkers, we can't leave either."

"I know a way to stop walkers from trying to bite you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, someone smart I knew figured it out, they won't be able to follow us, and they can't shoot us."

"So, nobody will get hurt," realized a relieved Sarah.

"Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay," nodded Sarah. "Wait, what about—"

"Nobody Sarah. You can't tell anyone."

"I won't tell Mr. Carver, but what about—"

"No. It's too risky to tell anyone else," asserted Clementine. "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

Sarah sighed. "Okay, I promise," she conceded.

"Just remember, sneak out after the warehouse is locked down and wait by the pen."

"I will." Looking at Sarah, Clementine noticed the shred of pink fabric still tied around her head. Clementine stood up and moved to untie it.

"You can probably take this off now." Clementine carefully removed the crude bandage. There was large bruise on Sarah's forehead and a scab. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but it did look much better than before. "I don't think you'll need it anymore."

"I kinda liked it actually," commented Sarah as she looked at the piece of cloth. "It was something you gave me, well, kinda."

Clementine smiled. "I'll get you something better when we get out," assured Clem in a sweet voice.

"I'd like that." Clementine moved her arms apart and leaned in to hug Sarah, when she heard the doors slam open.

"There you are!"


	62. Just Words

"Your retarded little ass is supposed to be in the pen!" barked Consuelo as she barged into the room.

"Gene said—" Consuelo slapped Clementine hard across the face, knocking her to the ground. Clementine stifled the urge to cry as she clutched the left side of her face, throbbing in pain. Looking up in terror, Clem saw Consuelo looming over her. The small girl found herself trembling as the vicious woman came in close. She was almost certainly ready to beat Clem further, but then Sarah moved in front of her.

"Stop it!" demanded an outraged Sarah as she put herself between Clem and Consuelo. "Gene said it was okay for her to stay here until someone got her."

"I don't give a fuck what that curly haired pole smoking kike had to say! And I sure as shit don't give a fuck what a four-eyed cum guzzling spic like you has to say!" Consuelo shoved Sarah back into a chair and pulled Clem to her feet by the collar. "Come on shit stain, this is the last you're ever going to see of this place." Consuelo pulled Clem out of Sarah's room and back outside. She shoved the small girl forward, forcing her to march.

"You think you'd know better by now than to talk back to me, you mouthy mulatto mongoloid." Clem just bit her lip and held her tongue. "The hell were you doing in there? Finger fucking your filthy wetback dyke girlfriend? Does she give good head?" Clem refused to say anything. "Oh, what's this? The silent treatment? That supposed to teach me a lesson you stuck up little spook?"

Clem didn't respond, but Consuelo did. She grabbed the girl by her collar and flung her to ground. Clem looked up at the vindictive woman, and saw she was holding a gun in her hand. The trembling nine-year-old watched as Consuelo slowly raised her pistol.

"Don't," begged a frightened Clementine as she watched Consuelo aim the gun at her. "There's… there's a herd coming and—"

"I'm willing to bet they're still a ways off." Consuelo tossed the gun at Clementine's feet. "How bout you?" Clem looked at the pistol right in front of her. "Go head, pick up the gun." Clem looked up at Consuelo, unable to ignore the malevolent smile forming on the woman's face. "Come on, I know you want to." Clem found herself paralyzed by fear, unable to even move.

"You know what, I'll make it easy on you." Consuelo turned her back to Clem. "Go right ahead. Pick it up and pull the trigger. It'll be everything you ever wanted." Rubbing her sore cheek, Clementine felt her anger boiling over, urging her to grab the gun. She thought back to shooting Consuelo's thumb off, and what a horrifying sight it was then.

But thinking about it now, Clem found herself enjoying the image of Consuelo bleeding all over herself, of making this horrible person suffer. It dawned on Clem she had the chance to kill Consuelo then, while she was still reeling from the injury. And staring at the gun lying on the pavement, Clem sensed an opportunity to finally correct that mistake.

Clem leaned forward, but then an image of Sarah flashed into her mind. She couldn't push out the thought of how frightened Sarah was to see her beat Matt. And thinking of Matt, Clem remembered the bitter punishment she received, and how her original outburst spurred his vendetta against her. Then she thought of Christa, and Nick, and Carlos, and how they'd be counting on her to open the gate to get out, and Clem found her hand moving back to her side.

Consuelo turned around, seemingly disappointed Clem hadn't made a move for the gun. She bent down and picked up the pistol, but she didn't put it away.

"You really are pathetic, you know that? Even Felicity had the balls to make a move, not that it did her any good." Clementine watched nervously as Consuelo traced the barrel of the gun down the young girl's arm. "You ever hear the expression, an eye for an eye?" Clem felt her heart race as Consuelo's gun stopped over her thumb.

"Personally, I've always thought that was stupid. If someone took out my eye, I'd want a helluva lot more than their eye." Clementine's heart started to beat faster as Consuelo moved the gun. She briefly pointed the gun at Clem's head, then moved down her chest, past her belly, and stopped the gun right between Clementine's legs. Clem looked up at the woman in terror, who just smiled in return before cocking her gun.

"No! Don't!" Consuelo pulled the trigger and Clementine let out a panicked yelp. She waited for a gunshot, but there was nothing. Looking up she saw Consuelo aiming the gun at her face now. She pulled the trigger, causing Clem to flinch. But again, there was no shot. Consuelo pulled the trigger several more times, producing several loud clicks, which Clem found herself instinctively flinching at.

"You know, and I truly and sincerely mean this from the bottom of my heart, I hope you stay alive for a long time," professed Consuelo in an earnest voice as she stood up. "Because, I am going to have so much fun with you." Clem started coughing, finding herself unable to stop. "It'd be such a shame if you left. Not because you'd go free of course, but because you'd die so quickly out there and miss out on all the wonderful suffering you could get in here." Clementine scowled at the horrible woman as she hovered over her, a disgusting grin spreading across her face.

"Oh no, the angry eyes, now I'm in trouble," quipped Consuelo as she holstered her gun. "You know what you are? You're nothing. Less than nothing really. A fucking waste of space if there ever was one. And despite what you may think, nobody actually cares about you, no one. Not your supposed best friend, definitely not Bill, and not even that fat cum dumpster pretending to be your mom." Clem's eyes widened in shock.

"Oh yeah, Bill knows. He could tell from the first time he saw you two. Stuck up alpha cunt like her? There'd be nothing short of a shit storm if someone touched her precious flesh and blood. Just like how Carlos acts when anyone harms a hair on his brain dead chicken shit daughter's head. But for you, all she put out was a little huffing and puffing, and everything was fine, because she doesn't really care about you." Clem felt her blood boiling. She wanted nothing more than to have that gun back, but with enough bullets to kill Consuelo a dozen times over.

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm just saying she doesn't care about you to piss you off. And I am. But you know what? It's true. You're not her real daughter, and she'll have a real kid of her own soon, and then she won't need you. And when you die, she won't miss you, not really. I'm sure she'll be sad for a day, maybe two, but after that, she's going to be happier than she'll ever have been in her life.

"She'll have her little crying, shitting bundle of joy. Maybe she'll even name it after you, thinking that some piece of you can live on. But really it's just her replacing you. She won't think about you. Before long she won't even remember you. Neither will anyone else. Hell, they've already forgotten Pete and he mattered a helluva lot more than you ever will. And even bleeding heart pussies like Gene and Gertrude and Cookie and your pathetic little girlfriend will forget all about you rotting on the side of the road once they see Shaffer's shining symbol of hope.

"We're keeping that baby around. And we'll keep its mom happy too. So much happier than you ever made her. We'll make her love this place and why not? We're such good people. Giving a home to a loving mother and her darling little baby. Probably the last God damn baby left in the world. And those fucking pitiful saps will work themselves to death over it. They'll throw away their lives scraping and scouring ever last thing Bill and I could ever want from what's left of the world.

"And once they've finished building our own personal paradise and they're dead and gone, we'll have everything we'd ever need, for the rest of our lives. Everything the world has left to offer just for me and him to enjoy all day, every day, and all thanks to a bunch of well meaning good people who gave their lives for us, because that's what good people do, they give up everything for someone else. It's why Bill loves them so much."

Clem was terrified as Consuelo stood over her, like a predator hovering over its wounded prey, toying with it before finally making the kill. Even after everything that had happened to Clem, she couldn't remember being more scared than she was right now.

"And you know where you stand in all of this? Nowhere. Because like I said, you're less than nothing. A stupid, weak, useless, sack of shit, that's only still alive because of the people willing to drag your pathetic ass this far along out of pity. But they don't care about you, because no one cares about you. No one will miss you. No one will remember you. And absolutely no one in the world loves you."

Clementine felt her whole body trembling. She felt sick, sicker than she ever remembered being. It was as if she was trapped at the bottom of an ocean. Alone, forgotten, crushed beneath the very world itself where she would never be discovered, and no one could ever hear her cries of pain.

"What's this? The little baby going to cry?" Clem turned away from Consuelo, desperate to hide the overwhelming pain spilling over into her eyes. "No, no, no," whispered Consuelo as she circled around Clem. "Let me see them. Show me those big wonderful tears rolling down your filthy little face." Clem covered her face, trying harder in her life not to cry as she felt her very heart-breaking.

"I said let me see them!" Consuelo ripped Clem's hands away from her face and grabbed the poor girl's head with both hands, yanking her forward like a rag doll so that their faces were practically touching.

"Cry for me little girl!" Consuelo's horrid breath made Clem feel even sicker. "Don't you get it? We can do whatever we want to you, and nobody would even care!" Clem felt her eyes welling up, her nose sniveling and her entire body shaking in Consuelo's grip. Desperately she fought her every instinct to cry, not out of pride, but out of fear of how much more Consuelo would hurt her after she saw how much pain she had already inflicted.

"Consuelo, come back." Clem watched as Consuelo's vicious smile faded away, replaced with a look of overwhelming irritation. "Pick up Consuelo!" Clem collapsed onto the ground as Consuelo grabbed her radio.

"What!" she barked.

"Where's Clementine? You said you were bringing her back to the pen like ten minutes ago," reminded Hector.

"She'll be there in a minute," hissed Consuelo.

"No, she'll be there right now!" dictated Hector. "We need to lock this place down and the last fucking thing we need right now is some kid on the loose. If she's not back in thirty seconds, I'm sending Tom to personally throw her and your fucking ass in the pen!"

"I'll be right there you french fried felching faggot!" Consuelo clipped her radio back to her belt and forced Clementine to her feet. "Don't think you're off the hook," whispered Consuelo as she forcefully dragged the girl back by the arm. "I've got all the time in the world for you. I'll dedicate myself to making your short little useless life miserable in every way I can. And I won't even so much as have to lay a finger on you to do it." Consuelo opened the gate to the pen.

"Away from the door!" She hurled Clementine past the entrance and slammed the gate shut.

"Clem, are you okay?" Christa looked on in horror as Clem just lay there, wide-eyed in terror and trembling uncontrollably. "Clem, talk to me. Say something." Christa looked through the fence at Consuelo. "What the fuck did you do to her!"

"Nothing," shrugged Consuelo. "We were just talking."

"The fuck are you doing?" asked an annoyed Tom. "I didn't even search her."

"Trust me, she's got nothing." Christa noticed the mark on Clem's face as Consuelo casually strolled away without another word.

"She hit you again, didn't she?"

"Yuh… yeah," mumbled a sniveling Clem.

"But that wasn't all she did, was it?" asked Christa.

"No," answered a trembling Clem.

"What?" Clem didn't answer. "You can tell me. It's okay—"

"She just said some horrible things," insisted an emotional Clem.

"What things? What did she—"

"Just, really terrible things, okay!" cried Clementine. "Please, I don't want to talk about it." Christa wrapped her arms around Clementine, hoisting the girl off the ground and carrying her to the nearest bed.

"What happened to her?" asked Nick.

"Consuelo said 'something' to her," answered a sickened Christa.

"Just wait until you work under her," commented a pleased Matt.

"Shut up!" barked Christa. "Clem, if you need anything—"

"Sarah's jacket," answered a shivering Clem. "It's under the bed." Christa retrieved the jacket and Clem immediately took it. She put the oversized coat on and zipped it up. It was comforting, but she found herself desperately wishing Sarah herself was beside her right now.

"You might as well rest," suggested a concerned Carlos. "They won't use us for the rest of the day, so there's nothing for us to do."

"Clementine?" asked Christa. "You want me to rest in your bed?" Clem nodded and Christa lay down next to the small girl. Clem inched closer and wrapped her arms around the woman. "Things will be better soon, Clem," assured Christa as she ran her fingers through the girl's hair. "Okay? It'll be better soon. I promise."

"You can't promise that," whimpered Clem.

"Yes I can," stated a certain Christa. "This time, I can promise you, things will be better soon."


	63. The Die is Cast

"It's time." Clementine blinked her eyes a couple of times and looked up to see Carlos standing over her. Clem sat up, and found a terrible itching in her throat. She covered her face and started coughing. Clem found herself wishing they hadn't gotten dinner early since it meant she wouldn't get any more water today. "Let's go."

"You sure?" asked Christa as she stood up.

"Positive," answered Carlos in a hushed voice. "Tom left about an hour ago when they called for him to return his gun. They'll have completed the lockdown by now. And you can hear the herd just outside." Listening closely, Clem heard a distant rustling. It sounded like hundreds of pieces of wet meat sliding across the asphalt.

"God, that sounds like a lot of them," commented a nervous Nick.

"Listening in on Tom's radio before he left, it sounds like they're moving on the highway just down the road," explained Carlos.

"Carlos said if you smell like a lurker, then they won't attack?" Nick asked Clem.

"It makes sense," said Carlos. "We know they can smell fresh blood and living things. Logic would suggest they can smell each other as well, and would know not to attack."

"But you got to be quiet," said Clem. "They can still hear you if you're not."

"We get out, we find a straggler, kill it, use it to disguise our scent, then we all head north until we get to Saint Christopher's," surmised Carlos.

"Let's just get this over with," suggested Christa. "I just want to get out of this cell already."

"You and me both." Everyone turned to Matt, who was sitting on the bed furthest from the group, his arms crossed. "If you people are leaving I'm coming with you."

"Yeah right," scoffed Nick. "We should just tie him to the bed and gag him." Matt jumped off the bed and edged towards the loading door that led into the warehouse.

"Take me with you, or I'll pound on that door while screaming at the top of my lungs," threatened Matt.

"Fine, you can leave with us," conceded Carlos. "But once we're outside, you're on your own."

"Fine by me, I'm as sick of you assholes as I am this fucking place," retorted Matt. "So, how do we get out? Because Mick and I tried opening the gate from this side a bunch of times. It ain't happening."

"We open it from the other side," answered Carlos as the group approached the bathroom.

"Say what?" Matt watched as Nick and Carlos pulled on the fencing, widening the gap enough to allow Christa to help Clementine climb through the opening. "Are you kidding me? Why didn't I ever think of that?" Clementine tumbled down onto the pavement. She stood up and looked around.

It was overcast again, and looked to be about early evening. It was also eerily quiet. Clementine looked around to make sure there was no one left in the area. She didn't see anybody at first, but looking at the side of the building Clem thought she spotted someone ducking around the corner. Approaching the edge, Clem turned her hat around backwards so the brim wouldn't poke out past her face, then peeked around the corner. Clem found a familiar pair of brown eyes staring directly at her.

"Sarah," whispered a relieved Clementine.

"Clementine," she whispered back. Sarah came out from around the corner and exchanged smiles with Clem. "I changed my radio's channel to the one the crew uses. When I heard them say they were locking the warehouse, I came out here to wait for you," explained Sarah. "But I made sure to turn off the radio first, so it wouldn't make any noise."

"That was really smart," complimented Clem.

"You found my jacket." Clem looked down and forget she was still wearing it. "I thought it was gone." Clem unzipped it and handed it to Sarah.

"It's too big for me," said Clem. "But it helped keep me warm."

"That reminds me, I've got something for you." Sarah put her jacket on, then pulled something from her waistband. Clem looked on in disbelief as Sarah offered her a familiar gun with dried blood on the bottom of the magazine. Clementine took the gun and removed the magazine. It was fully loaded.

"How did you get this?" asked Clementine as she put the magazine back in.

"I'll explain later," insisted Sarah.

"But—"

"Later, I promise." Clem noticed her radio still attached to Sarah's waistband.

"This might sound weird, but can I have that radio?" asked Clem.

"Sure." Sarah handed it over. "I thought it might be yours. The stickers remind me of your backpack." Clementine clipped the radio to her waistband and tucked the gun into her pants. She then looked at Sarah and smiled.

"Is there anything else?" Clementine answered Sarah's question by wrapping her arms around the older girl and hugging her as tightly as she could. Clem found holding Sarah incredibly comforting, a feeling only surpassed by Sarah's arms grasping Clem and tenderly squeezing her. Clem almost didn't want to let go of Sarah, but the urgency of the situation finally compelled her to break off the hug.

"Come on." Clementine led Sarah to the front of the pen. The pair undid the latches and Matt immediately burst out the door.

"Bout fucking time," he grumbled as he walked past the girls.

"Sarah," called Carlos in a hushed voice.

"Daddy." The pair embraced each other.

"I'm so sorry dad," apologized Sarah.

"No, no, I'm the one who's sorry sweetheart," assured Carlos. "We'll have a talk later once we're somewhere safer, but right now we need to keep quiet."

"Yeah, they might still have some people out," commented Nick as he moved past the door. "But they won't have guns, so we can take them if we have to." Nick turned to Clem. "Here." Nick handed Clem's backpack to her, which she quickly put on. Carlos turned to the lamp attached to the pen's fence and unhooked it.

"What's that? Your severance pay?" scoffed Matt.

"It'll be dark in a few hours. We can use this," answered Carlos.

"Once we're out of the gate, hang a left until you reach the highway, then hang a right," instructed Nick. "Once we get ahead of the herd we can start running. Ten miles on the road and it'll bring us right to Saint Christopher's." Christa emerged from the pen, a forlorn look on her face.

"All right, let's go." Carlos moved towards the side of the building with Sarah, Nick and Matt behind him.

"I told you not to tell Sarah," reminded Christa in a grim tone.

"It's okay, she didn't tell anyone." Christa sighed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, let's go already." Clementine moved with Christa after the others, quietly following along the side of the warehouse. They stopped briefly while Nick and Carlos surveyed for guards, then signaled to keep moving. They moved past the smaller office building and a couple of trucks facing the main gate.

Clem felt her heart race as Nick and Carlos started carefully sliding the metal girders that barricaded the gate out of place, taking great care to do it as quietly as they could. She kept expecting something to happen, but they moved the last of the girders out of the way without incident. Clem felt her heart skip a beat as Nick and Carlos pulled the gate open just enough to slip inside.

They went in, along with Sarah and Matt trailing right behind them. Nick, Carlos and Matt sped towards the next gate, while Sarah stopped and knelt down to examine something on the ground. Clem tried to race after them, but felt a strong pair of hands holding her shoulders. Looking up Clem saw an upset Christa holding her in place.

"What are you doing?" asked Clem. "We have to—"

"You don't want to go in there." Before Clem could ask Christa about her cryptic comment, the headlights on one of the trucks switched on and a squad of four people descended on the main gate.

"Drop whatever you're holding and put your hands in the air!" ordered Maude.

"That's right!" added a cocky Bridget. "You're going nowhere!" Clem watched in despair as Maude and Bridget aimed crossbows at the others while Tom and Consuelo pulled the gates wide open.

"Stay where you are!" Maude and Bridget moved into the loading area, covering Matt and Nick. Tom removed a bow from his back while Consuelo unsheathed a machete and approached Carlos and Sarah, who kept their hands in the air.

"And the Lord said, let there be light." Clementine watched as Bill stepped out of the cab of the truck, a smug grin on his face. "Then the Lord God saw the light, and said it was good." Bill turned to Christa. "As he separated the light from the darkness."

"How could you?" whispered a shocked Clementine.

"You traitor!" barked Carlos.

"I'm sorry," choked an ashamed Christa. "I—"

"You, got nothing to apologize for," assured Bill as he moved towards the others. "And you've got a helluva lot of nerve lecturing people on treachery Carlos, after everything you've pulled." Bill stopped suddenly when he noticed Sarah standing beside Carlos. He glared at the cowering girl, an unrestrained outrage burning his eyes.

"Then again, maybe it can't be helped," commented Bill through clenched teeth as he approached Sarah. "Maybe treachery just runs in your blood." Sarah yelped as Bill grabbed her arm and yanked her away from her father.

"No!" Tom grabbed one of Carlos's arms while Consuelo grabbed the other before positioning her machete under Carlos's chin.

"Settle down handsome," urged Consuelo in a playful voice. "Let Bill work his magic." Bill let go of Sarah, who just stood before the man, shaking in her boots.

"Well now," said Bill, his voice dripping with disgust. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I… um… I…" stammered a petrified Sarah. "I… I just didn't want… you to hurt my dad again," she babbled. "So… I thought… if we leave—" Bill's hands found their way right to Sarah's throat. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I—" Sarah started choking for air as Bill strangled the life out her, all the while Carlos screamed and thrashed against his captors.

Clementine reached for her gun, nearly fumbling it as she had to reach under her backpack to retrieve it. Finally having the gun in hand, she clicked the safety off, aimed for Bill, and felt a strong hand rip the gun from her grip.

"Christa no!" yelled Clem as Christa pulled the gun out of reach. "Give me—" Christa took aim and fired, shooting Consuelo right in the head. The woman dropped her machete and fell dead, allowing Carlos to pull himself free of Tom's grip. Bill released Sarah, who collapsed onto the ground like a rag doll.

Tom tried to prepare an arrow for his bow, and Christa shot him in the head. Bill reached for something in his coat, when Carlos's fist shattered the man's jaw, sending him tumbling into the pavement. Maude swung her crossbow around at Carlos, allowing Matt to lunge at the older woman. Matt sunk his teeth into her hand, causing the woman to scream out in pain, which ended promptly with a shot to the head.

Nick grabbed Bridget's crossbow with ease, stealing the weapon from her as she was paralyzed by the shock of everything happening. He turned it around and aimed at the girl just as Christa trained her gun on the confused teenager.

"No please don't!" screamed Bridget in terror. "Please don't kill me! Please!" begged a tearful Bridget as she fell to her knees, her hands tightly knitted together as she prayed for mercy. "Please… please don't kill me. I…" An arrow pierced Bridget's chest, causing the girl to scream out in pain.

"That's for my brother," commented Matt as he tossed Maude's crossbow aside. "You stuck up bitch." Bridget gripped the arrow with both hands, squealing in pain. She crawled along on her knees towards the outer gate, before collapsing onto the ground. As her squeals of pain diminished, a different blood-curdling scream filled the air. Clementine looked over to see Bill lying on his back, his left arm snapped nearly in half, his bloody coat sleeve housing what was left of the mangled limb.

"No, no don't…" croaked Bill in a weak voice as Carlos grabbed Bill's other arm. Clementine watched in disgust as Carlos twisted Bill's arm taut, then snapped it with a vicious stomp of his foot, resulting in another horrible scream. Looking away from the sickening sight, Clementine saw Sarah, lying motionless on the pavement.

"Sarah!" yelled Clementine as she rushed to her friend's body. "Sarah get up!" Clementine looked for any signs of life, but saw none.

"Clementine." Looking back, Clem saw Christa aiming the gun at Sarah. "Get out of the way."

"No!" Clementine positioned herself over Sarah's head, blocking Christa's shot.

"If she's dead, she'll turn and—"

"If she's dead it's your fault!" Clementine's accusation stopped Christa dead in her tracks. "Do something! Help her!" Christa looked down at Clem, then knelt down beside her. She put the gun into Clementine's hand, then pointed the barrel right at Sarah's head.

"If she turns, don't hesitate," instructed a nervous Christa as she eyed a still lifeless Sarah. Christa took a breath, then leaned in close and pressed her lips to Sarah's while pinching her nose. Christa blew air into Sarah's mouth for a few seconds, then placed her hands over the girl's chest and started pushing down on it in a steady rhythm.

A quick series of gunshots rang out. Looking up, Clementine saw Carlos shooting Bill in his legs with what looked like Bill's own gun. Clem watched as Carlos aimed the gun directly between Bill's legs and pulled the trigger twice more, spewing blood onto the pavement and causing Bill to scream in agony, only to be silenced when Carlos smashed the end of the gun into Bill's mouth, breaking several of his teeth.

Unable to watch anymore, Clem looked back at Sarah just as Christa finished blowing more air into her lungs. Christa once again pumped Sarah's chest several times, then moved back to breathe for Sarah again, when the girl suddenly twitched her head.

Christa fell over backwards in surprise while Clementine felt her finger instinctively go for the trigger, but then she heard Sarah coughing, which was followed by the girl gasping desperately for air.

"Sarah!" Clementine wrapped her arms around the older girl in relief, pulling her off the ground into a sitting position. "I'm so glad you're alive." Clementine's admission of relief was followed by a panicked squealing and flailing from Sarah. "What's wrong?" Clem released Sarah, who turned away from something in a hurry. Turning around, Clementine saw what was frightening her.

Carlos was standing over Bill's mutilated corpse. Blood pouring out of the gunshot wounds on the lower half of his body, both his arms twisted into unnatural positions, his teeth scattered about the pavement, the entire front of his face caved into a twisted mess of blood, bone, and brain matter that was constantly reshaped by Carlos's foot as he repeatedly kicked the gory target again and again without pause, splattering bits of Bill across the ground and onto his pant leg.

"Carlos!" Christa's call did nothing to halt Carlos's assault. "Carlos!" Christa grabbed Carlos by the shoulder, who spun around with his fists raised, scaring Christa backwards several steps. Blood was dripping from his fingertips and was soaked into one of his shoes. He was taking slow deep breaths, like a bull getting ready to charge. A crazed look was seemingly burned into his eye, until he spotted his daughter sitting on the ground.

"Sarah…" The anger vanished from Carlos's face in an instance as he looked at Sarah. "You're alive," he said in an overjoyed voice as he moved towards her. "Thank God—"

"No!" Sarah jerked away from her father as he reached out to her. Carlos looked at the blood on his hands, then simply sighed to himself.

"Can we fucking leave already?" urged Matt as he slid one of the girders loose on the outer gate. "The rest of them are probably on their way and—" An undead Bridget tackled Matt to the ground, the boy started screaming out in terror as he grabbed hold of the arrow sticking out of Bridget's chest.

"Get her off of me!" Clementine raised her gun and put her finger on the trigger. But watching Matt squirm in terror as Bridget's body slowly slid down the arrow, bringing her gnashing teeth closer to the boy's face, Clem found it oddly satisfying seeing him suffer. Suddenly, she didn't feel any urgency in pulling the trigger.

An arrow pierced Bridget's head, finally halting her attack. Looking over, Clem watched as Nick stood on a piece of the crossbow and quickly pulled the string on it back, before removing one of the arrow's attached to its underside to reload it. Matt pushed Bridget's body off and then scampered back into the outer gate.

"Holy shit," panted the boy. "I'm glad that's over." A loud crash sounded from the outer gate as it bulged in the middle, knocking Matt off of it. The boy scurried away backwards as the air filled with the sounds of dozens of walkers slamming against the gate. "Oh shit." Matt felt something wet by his hand. He looked over and saw he was sitting next to Bill's bloody corpse. "Oh fuck."

Christa grabbed the machete Consuelo dropped and ran to Bridget's corpse. She knelt down and readied the blade over her stomach.

"Will it work if the person just turned into a walker?" Christa asked Clementine.

"I don't know," answered Clem. "She already smells like one."

"That'll have to do." Christa plunged the machete into Bridget's stomach and started slicing open her lower abdomen.

"What… what are you doing?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"It's how we get past the walkers," informed a sickly Clementine. "We got to smell like them."

"Don't watch sweetheart." Sarah heeded her father's advice and turned away from what was left of Bridget. "Just hold onto this." Carlos scooped the lantern he took off the ground and clipped it onto a belt loop on Sarah's pants. "You get lost, just turn that on, and I'll come to you."

"Here." Christa tossed what Clem thought was part of Bridget's intestines right into her hands. No sooner had that slippery organ touched Clementine's skin than it reminded the girl why she hadn't thought of trying this since she left Savannah. A chill shot up her spine upon feeling that horrible greasy substance in her hands and that rancid stench in her nostrils.

But seeing Nick, Christa and Carlos hastily coat themselves in Bridget's innards spurred Clementine into action. She put her gun down and did her best to ignore the smell. She started rubbing the grotesque substance down the front of her shirt and onto her pant legs.

"Just keep your eyes closed sweetheart." Carlos started smearing Sarah's jacket, causing the girl to shudder.

"Try to breathe through your mouth," instructed a sympathetic Clementine. "And, try not to think about how gross it is."

"Clem, get her back, I'll get yours." Clem started smearing the back of Sarah's jacket while she felt Carlos moving something wet and gross up and down the back of her own shirt. While covering Sarah, Clem noticed Matt kneeling in front of Bill's corpse. He straightened his shirt, then stood up and turned around.

"The fuck are you people doing?" he asked in utter shock.

"It's how we get past the walkers," informed a grossed out Clem.

"Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief. "I'm not doing that."

"Don't then," snapped Christa. "Stay here and die for all we care."

Matt looked at the still bulging gate and rushed over to Bridget's corpse. "This is not what I meant when I said I'd kill to get my hands on Bridget," he grumbled as he started smearing himself.

"Are… are you sure this will work?" asked a nervous Sarah as she looked over to Clementine.

"It'll work," assured Clem. "But you have to keep quiet. No matter what."

"I'll… I'll try." Sarah turned away from Clem and gasped. Looking up, Clementine saw Sarah was staring at Byron, who had just finished cocking Maude's bow. The two seemed to stare at each other in surprise for a moment, before Byron's look of shock turned to one of betrayal. Clementine reached for her gun while Byron quickly loaded an arrow into the crossbow.

"Freeze!" Clem stopped mid-action, she had her gun in hand, but it was aimed at the ground, and Byron had a loaded crossbow aimed in her direction. "Drop whatever you're holding and slowly raise your hands over your head!" Clementine let her gun hit the pavement, then stood up with all the others. She watched as Byron was joined by Richard, Harry, Lloyd and George. Richard grabbed Tom's bow and quickly drew back an arrow from Tom's quiver.

"Oh dear Lord!" exclaimed a horrified Lloyd.

"Tom, Maude," listed a saddened Byron. "And what the fuck did you do to Bridget?"

"Is… is that Bill over there?" asked Richard in disbelief. "I… I can't make out the face, but that's his coat, so—"

"One of Bill's bright ideas finally caught up with him," surmised an apathetic George. "Oh well." The sound of the gate straining under stress was nearly drowned out by an uneven chorus of moaning and groaning from the undead on the other side.

"Oh shit, those shots we heard must have drawn them right to us," concluded Byron. "All right, all of you, over here! We'll lock them in the back of the truck and—"

"Stay right where you are!" George pulled a revolver from inside his coat and aimed it at the group.

"The fuck are you doing with that?" asked a surprised Byron.

"Kept it around, in case something happened. Like this," answered George. "You people started this, so I'm gonna finish it."

"Finish it?" repeated a shocked Lloyd. "Half of them are kids. The woman has a baby. And—"

"And they all chose this," finished George. "That was their decision."

"Fine," conceded a frightened Byron as he moved towards the edge of the inner gate. "Close the gates! We'll—"

"Leave the gates alone," ordered George.

"Are you fucking crazy! We gotta seal the entrance and—"

"We will!" dictated George. "But only after we take care of them."

"George, that's not a good idea," noted Richard, clearly nervous himself. "The gate could go any minute."

"Not any minute. Right now." George aimed his gun at Nick. "You. Open it."

"What?" exclaimed a confused Harry.

"Or you'll shoot him?" mocked a hysterical Byron. "That's a helluva lot better an outcome than him opening the damn—" George pointed his gun right at Byron's forehead and cocked the hammer.

"You say one more goddamn word and I'll throw you in there with them!" Byron froze in place, petrified by George's threat. "And I won't shoot you Nick." George slowly aimed his gun back at the group. "I'll shoot all of them." Clementine trembled in fear as George aimed directly at her. "Starting with the girl." Clem watched as George adjusted his aim downward slightly. "And it won't be in the head, or in the heart. It'll be somewhere nice and painful. Where she'll know she's dying, but won't right away." Nick looked to Clementine, the small girl shaking in terror.

"So what's it gonna be?" asked George. "You gonna sit there and watch everyone you know slowly die around you? Or will you man up just long enough to all die together?" Looking up at Nick, Clementine saw the doubt in the young man's eyes. "Well? What's it going to be? Boy?" Clem nodded at Nick, which seemed to give him the assurance he needed. Nick hurried to the gate and started sliding the second girder out.

"Well, I'll be goddamned," commented an amused George with a slight smile. The sound of metal tearing followed the girder sliding clear of the gate. Nick paused as he looked at the third one. "Go on now." At George's urging, Nick started pulling on the third girder.

"Rich, be ready to close the inner gate as soon as they're dead," instructed a nervous Byron. A second, louder metallic scraping sound followed the third girder being moved out of place. Nick looked down at the last girder holding the gates together.

"Go on. Your whole pathetic life has been building up to this moment," cackled a delighted George. Nick shot the wicked man an angry look, then turned back to the gate. He reached down for the last girder, when the gates burst open. Everyone instinctively moved away from the flood of dead pouring over each other, only to find George, Byron and Richard aiming right at them.

"Nobody shoot," instructed George in a cold voice. "If one of them comes over here, you throw them right back in." Clementine looked around as walkers crawled and shambled right to her and the others. Looking at the others she saw they were all as frightened as she was, especially Sarah, who had covered her mouth with both hands to muffle her screaming.

Clementine watched anxiously as a walker stumbled right up to her, then slid past her without taking notice. A couple strolled past Nick and Christa, a few more moved past Matt and Carlos, and several bumped past Sarah, who was too afraid to even move out of the way. Looking at George, Clementine watched the sadistic glee drain right out of the man, leaving him only with bewilderment.

"What the fuck is going on?" asked Byron in a hushed voice. "Why aren't they biting them?" Clementine noticed her gun on the ground and carefully moved past a couple of walkers to get it. As she did so, she saw the walkers moving past Bill suddenly gravitate to his corpse, greedily feeding on what was left of the man. "Wait, I think I get it." As Clementine retrieved her gun, she noticed Nick had picked up the crossbow during the confusion, and was now aiming right at a distracted Byron. "They're not biting because—"

"Byron, look out!" Lloyd's call brought Byron back to his senses. Clementine watched as Byron drew his own crossbow, and Nick suddenly jerked his to the right and fired. An arrow struck George directly in the chest, sending the huge man tumbling backwards. He pulled his gun and fired, only managing to shoot the pavement in front of him before dropping the weapon and collapsing onto the ground.

"Seal the gates!" Byron's order was followed by a sudden rush of walkers charging after the sound of the gunshot. Clem watched the lights from the truck disappear from view as Shaffer's gates swung shut just in time for a couple dozen walkers to throw themselves against it.


	64. The Herd

Clementine struggled to move upstream against the dozens upon dozens of walkers flocking right to Shaffer's walls. She ducked and weaved past one after another, finding herself only making minuscule progress as she had to keep changing directions to avoid running into the walkers. Ducking away from one walker she found herself slamming into another one's legs, causing it to fall forward right on top of her.

Clem felt her heart in her throat as she found herself pinned under the walker's body. She closed her eyes and waited for the end, but the walker merely started crawling forward, eventually pulling itself off the small girl. Rolling onto all fours, Clem started crawling herself, trying to navigate out of the path of the dead. Seeing an opening, Clem darted past a few walkers and out of their path of travel.

She stood up and took a few more steps away, looking at the army of dead slamming against Shaffer's walls. Looking towards the gate, the entire loading area was now overflowing with walkers. They didn't seem to be making any progress, at least not yet, but more walkers kept crashing into the ones already pushing on the gates.

As Clem moved further away from Shaffer's, she felt a horrible scratching sensation in her throat. She covered her mouth to cough, but forgot about the gore on her hands. The horrid stench caused Clementine to gag, causing her to cough a few times before throwing up onto the grass. Clem fell to her knees and felt another sick feeling come over her. She tried to suppress the urge, but it was useless. The putrid scent of her own vomit and horrid acidic taste in her mouth was too much, causing the small girl to throw up again

Looking up, Clem panicked as she saw a trio of walkers stumbling towards her just a few feet away. She sprung to her feet and ran, turning back to them once she had a distance. Clementine aimed her gun at the walkers, but noticed they weren't following her. They moved past the puddle of vomit and stopped, clueless to what happened to the noise they were chasing.

Taking a breath, Clementine started moving again, following the trail of wayward walkers towards the highway. As she moved, Clem looked around for any signs of the others. As much as she wanted to, Clem did not dare call to them for fear of attracting more walkers. But she found herself more and more worried as she saw no sign of anyone, and then felt hopeless as she saw the highway.

All the dozens upon dozens of walkers streaming towards Shaffer's paled in comparison to the hundreds shuffling across the highway in a disorderly fashion. Looking left Clementine saw a never-ending stream of more oncoming dead, and turning to her right she saw the same moving away from her. As Clementine prepared to slip into the stream of traffic, she noticed a light coming from the wooded area to her left.

Moving away from the highway, Clementine went after the odd light. She didn't see it a minute ago, but it was impossible to ignore now. It didn't look like a fire, but it was bright, whatever it was. Moving past a tree, Clementine found the source. It was Sarah sitting on the ground, her knees pulled her to her chest, her hands covering her mouth, and a lit lantern clipped to her waist.

"Sarah." The older girl turned to Clem and suddenly looked relieved.

"Clementine." Sarah took her hands away from her mouth and hugged Clementine, who tried to return the hug, but found the smell of being so close to Sarah's gore-stained jacket too much to bear. Clem pushed Sarah away before she gagged again.

"I'm sorry," apologized Clem. "But the smell makes me sick."

"I… I don't know where anyone is," informed a frightened Sarah.

"I don't either," spoke an uneasy Clementine.

"What… what do we do?" whispered an anxious Sarah.

"We…" Clementine thought to herself. "We got to get Saint Christopher's, like Nick said."

"There's so many of them," whimpered Sarah. "Can't we just wait?"

"No, then we'll just have to keep following them the whole way," explained Clem. "If we can get ahead of them, like Nick said, we can start running, and then we can get somewhere safe faster."

"But… but…"

"It'll be okay," instructed Clem as calmly as she could. "I've done this before." Despite being true, Clementine felt her voice faltering as she said that.

"My dad said he'd find me," remembered Sarah.

"He might already be ahead of us," reasoned Clem. "But if he's not, he'll see the light like I did and come to you." Sarah slowly stood up. Clementine looped her arm around the older girl's arm and tightened her grip on her gun.

"Just stay close to me." Clementine started leading Sarah out of the woods and towards the highway. Upon seeing the road again, Clem found the sight of hundreds of walkers wandering forward no less intimidating. "Just… just keep quiet," whispered Clementine. "And they won't notice you." Sarah put her free hand over her mouth. Clementine took a deep breath and pulled Sarah into the road.

Unlike the pile up at Shaffer's gate, the dead on the highway were far more spread out, allowing Clementine to move more easily between them, even with Sarah staying close to her side. With great care, Clementine navigated forward through the herd, easily outpacing the walkers and pulling further ahead.

Despite the good pace they were maintaining, Clementine couldn't see any end to the herd in sight. For every dozen walkers they passed there seemed to be at least a dozen more ahead of them. Clem kept pushing forward, hoping to find an end soon.

As they were walking, Clementine suddenly heard a loud bang. Turning towards the sound, Clem saw a brilliant flash of blue light in the sky and realized she was looking at fireworks. It must have been Shaffer's, trying to create a distraction. Clem found herself momentarily stunned by the beauty of the erupting rocket, almost nostalgic for such a celebratory sight. She didn't even notice the walker moving towards her until it bumped right into them.

Sarah yelped in surprise, but her hand muffled the sound. A tense Clementine aimed her gun at the walker, but it merely stumbled past the girls and fell onto the ground, where it started crawling after the noise. Looking around, Clementine watched as most of the walkers ahead of her started turning around and started moving back the way they came.

After watching a couple of more walkers move past her, Clementine started forward again, slowly dodging walkers before steadily returning to her original pace. Again, Clem found herself wondering if she'd ever see an end to the stream of the dead. Even with them moving against the flow now, it seemed like no matter how fast they went, they were never making any progress. And as they moved, Clementine felt a familiar scratching sensation building in her throat.

"Oh no," Clem whispered to herself as she came to a stop. She was already holding her gun, and even if she wasn't, both her hands were still covered in gore.

"What happened?" Clementine looked up at Sarah and saw a solution.

"Sarah, cover my mouth," whispered Clem.

"Why?" whispered Sarah.

"I have to cough, and I—" Clementine felt the urge grow stronger, forcing her to stifle a cough the best she could. But this just resulted in her having to cough even more. A sense of panic swept over Clem as she couldn't control herself. She started to hack, when Sarah covered Clementine's mouth. Sarah's firm grip muffled Clementine's coughing fit. The pair looked around in fear, afraid one of the walkers would hear them.

"Are you done?" Clem nodded in response to Sarah, who took her hand off Clem's face.

"Thanks," whispered a relieved Clementine. Yet again, the pair started moving forward. After a few minutes of zigging and zagging forward, Clementine noticed the herd was becoming less dense. Another minute and Clem found herself able to move a little faster as there was plenty of space to move around. She still saw more walkers ahead, but there were less and less of them with each step. Before long, there were only a couple of walkers every ten feet or so.

Clementine started easing up a little, confident they were nearly ahead of the herd now. There was another loud bang and looking over her shoulder, Clem saw another beautiful explosion of fireworks in the sky. But as she was looking at the fireworks, Clem suddenly felt Sarah try to pull free from her grip.

"Dad!" Clementine tightened her grip on Sarah and made a shushing sound. She quickly scanned the area, making sure none of the walkers were close enough to hear that, then turned to Sarah.

"You have to keep quiet," said Clem as sternly as she could while whispering.

"I saw my dad," whispered Sarah back.

"You're sure?" asked Clem.

"Yes. I saw his shirt when the fireworks lit up the road, he's up ahead. I'm sure of it."

"Okay, but we have to keep quiet," reminded Clem. "Don't run ahead and don't yell. If he's up there, we'll catch up to him."

"Oh… okay," agreed an anxious Sarah. Clem started moving ahead again, trying to move faster now, both for Sarah's sake and for her own in hopes of getting out of the herd faster. As they moved up, Clem saw a man in a familiar flannel shirt far off in the distance, and he wasn't moving like a walker.

"That's him," whispered an anxious Sarah.

"Just stay calm," reminded Clementine. "We'll be there in a minute." Clementine picked up the pace. Even from behind, she was close enough to see it was definitely Carlos. He was maintaining a quick pace himself, making it hard to catch up, but gradually Clementine and Sarah started closing the gap. Clem could feel Sarah's grip on her arm tightening as they neared Carlos. They were about thirty feet away now, watching Carlos cruise past a downed walker, when it suddenly lunged at the man's ankle.

"Dad!" Sarah's cry was followed by Carlos yelling out in pain from the bite, immediately bringing a walker on his left towards him, which lunged and bit Carlos's arm, causing him to call out in pain again. "No!"

"Sarah don't!" Clementine felt Sarah pull free from her grip just as a third walker stumbled over to Carlos as he was fighting off the first two. It bit his shoulder, just as the first one attacked his leg again, causing him to stumble and fall onto his back.

"Dad!" screamed Sarah as she sprinted forward. She tried to reach her father, only to come to a sudden stop as a walker moved away from her father and straight towards her. Sarah froze in place as it stumbled closer, moving after the noise it just heard. The petrified girl looked on in horror as the corpse loomed over her, then watched it drop dead from a gunshot.

Clementine lowered her gun and started running after Sarah while the other walkers that attacked Carlos were now moving towards the gunshot. Sarah started backing away, allowing Clementine to finally catch up with the older girl. Seeing the walkers still lurching towards the pair, Clem took aim and fired. Two more well-placed shots killed both of them before they could close the gap. Sarah sprinted towards where Carlos was lying on the ground.

"Dad!" yelled Sarah as she approached her father.

"Sarah don't!" yelled Clem as she tried to catch up. "If he died he'll be walker!" Sarah didn't listen and knelt down by Carlos.

"Dad, get up," she begged in a pitiable voice. Clementine started coughing as she reached Sarah's side. Looking down at Carlos, Clementine found herself sickened by the sight. His shoulder had been ripped apart, his stomach a sickening mixture of torn fabric and torn flesh, one of his arms had been mauled down to the bone, and there was blood everywhere, on Carlos and on the ground.

"Sarah, we have to go!" pleaded a desperate Clementine.

"We can't leave him," sobbed a hysterical Sarah.

"Sarah… he's dead."

"No, no, no, no!" chanted Sarah as she covered her ears, tears streaming down her face. Looking behind her, Clementine saw another walker approaching them. She fired yet again, putting it down. But beyond it were nearly a dozen more in the distance, all marching towards where Clem was standing. And beyond them she saw even more, all moving towards her.

"Daddy," moaned Sarah as she put her hands on her father's shoulders. "Get up…" she insisted as she attempted to shake him awake.

"Sarah!" Clementine tried to pull the older girl away from her father, but she easily shrugged Clem off.

"Please," begged a despondent Sarah. "Please get up." A low moan came from Carlos. "Daddy?" Seeing the group of walkers behind them grow closer, Clementine did the only thing she could think of. She aimed her gun at Carlos's head, and fired. The bullet splattered the man's brains onto the pavement, right in front of his daughter.

"Sarah… I… I'm sorry, but—"

"Nooo!" shrieked Sarah at the top of her lungs. "Daddy!"

"We have to go!" dictated a panicked Clementine. "We—" Sarah shoved Clementine aside and started running forward. "Sarah, wait!" Clementine stood up and started running after Sarah. She could hear the older girl crying hysterically as she ran. Clementine ran as fast as she possibly could, but Sarah kept pulling further ahead, eventually only visible by the light from the lantern on her waistband.

"Sarah stop!" screamed Clementine. "Sarah, don't—" Clem's lungs ached as she felt another coughing fit come on. She started hacking while gasping for air. She coughed so hard it threw off her balance and she fell onto the hard asphalt, her gun tumbling out of her hand.

Clementine hastily stood up, still coughing as she searched for any signs of walkers. Finding none, she quickly crawled over to her gun and grabbed it. Standing up, Clementine looked down the road for any sign of Sarah, but found none, not even the distant light from the lantern anymore.

"Sarah!" yelled Clementine as loud as she could. There was no answer, nor did Clementine see any sign of the older girl. "Christa!" called Clementine. "Nick!" Looking around, Clementine couldn't see any signs of life, anywhere. "Any… anyone?"


	65. Amid the Ruins

Clementine's legs throbbed in pain from running so much. Her throat was sore from coughing repeatedly. Her lungs ached for air. She was cold, hungry, very thirsty and utterly alone. She had been moving along the highway as fast as she could, but each step was becoming more and more difficult. Finally, the girl found herself at her limit and just came to a stop.

While gasping for air, Clementine felt a familiar scratching sensation in her already tender throat. She tried to stifle it, but it was useless, and she started coughing uncontrollably. Clem coughed so hard, she felt like she'd hack up her very lungs before long, but the fit passed and she was able to breathe again.

After taking a few breaths, Clementine decided to survey her surroundings. It was getting late and it was still overcast out, painting the area in a dim gray light. Looking behind her, Clementine didn't see any walkers. She didn't know how long she had been running, but the herd moved slowly, allowing her to gain some ground on them.

Clem hadn't seen Sarah since she ran off after Carlos's death. Nor had Clementine seen anything that told her what happened to Nick or Christa. She didn't know what happened to Matt either, but she found herself not particularly concerned with him. Still, she had lost track of everyone right after Shaffer's gates were closed, where it took every bit of Clem's effort to get through the flood of walkers rushing towards them.

Recalling how hard it was to get away from the initial rush, Clementine found herself having a horrible thought. What if Christa never made it out of Shaffer's? What if she had been buried under walkers before she had a chance to get away? What if she was dead right now?

Clementine tried to tell herself that she made it out, and so did Sarah and Carlos, so Christa probably did too. But then she remembered that one walker who bit Carlos's leg despite smelling like them, and it just made her ponder Christa's fate all over again.

Trying to distract herself from such depressing thoughts, Clementine looked around for anything of interest. Failing to find anything, Clem forced herself to be interested in a dilapidated gas station near the edge of the road. Seeing as she was still catching her breath, Clementine figured she could investigate, reasoning she might find something to eat or drink in there.

Moving past the pumps, Clementine noticed a couple of open metal covers on the ground. Looking down into one of the openings, she saw a cap of some kind and realized these must be the gas tanks Ed told her about. It also dawned on Clem that Shaffer's had probably already visited this gas station, and there wasn't must chance of finding anything. But the door was right there, so she figured she'd at least check.

Holding her gun tight, Clementine carefully pulled the door open. She didn't see anything threatening, so she stepped inside. Much to her disappointment, if not to her surprise, someone had clearly already looted this gas station long before she got here. The shelves were completely bare. It was almost surreal how neatly picked clean they were.

Moving up and down between the aisles, Clem could read the displays attached to many of the shelves advertising colas, candy, jerky, and a great many things Clementine wished she had right now. Moving towards the cold case in the back, Clem sighed at viewing empty section after empty section. Not a single bottle of anything left to take.

Moving back towards the front, Clementine looked at the ground, noticing a few discarded wrappers and empty bottles lying about. Desperate for anything, Clem picked up an empty chips bag, hoping maybe to find some crumbs. But it was completely empty. She also opened one of the bottles, desperate for even just a drop to drink, but again, nothing, the bottle was dry as a bone.

Moving to the counter, Clem found some keychains and posters advertising lottery tickets. Neither of which she found all that helpful. There was also an item rack for lighters, but no actual lighters. Past that were several broken and empty cases for cigarettes, but no actual cigarettes.

Figuring she didn't have much to lose, Clementine went behind the counter, not sure what if anything she was expecting. There were some shelves under the counter, which were bare. There was also a trash can, which Clementine tipped over. Only a few more empty wrappers spilled out. Turning away from the trash can, Clem noticed a safe tucked under the counter. Examining it closer, she saw that it had been severely dented and scratched. Pulling on the door, the safe swung open. Much like everything else, the safe was completely empty.

Sighing loudly to herself, Clementine left the gas station and stepped back outside. She moved over to one of the larger trash cans near the pumps and tipped it over. There were wadded up papers, receipts, and wrappers, nothing she wanted. She dumped over the other can, spilling out more garbage and a big plastic soda bottle with a tiny amount of red liquid swirling about inside of it.

Clementine picked up the bottle and looked at the faded label. It was some kind of sports drink which probably went bad months ago, and yet it was all she had. Unscrewing the cap, Clementine sniffed the container's contents, finding a sickeningly sweet smell that wasn't at all appetizing but also not outright nauseating.

Finding herself growing thirstier, Clementine closed her eyes and drank what little was left in the bottle. The taste was awful, something akin to stale cherry gum and plastic. Clementine actually felt a little sick after swallowing the nasty substance and was worried she'd throw up again. But the sick feeling passed after a moment; what didn't was the awful taste lingering in her mouth.

Moving past the side of the building, Clem saw a couple of doors for the restrooms. She drew her gun and pushed open the door to the girl's bathroom. The interior appeared empty, but when she stepped past the threshold the door swung shut, leaving her in total darkness.

Pushing the door back open, Clementine looked around for something to use as a doorstop. Seeing nothing nearby, Clementine removed the radio from her waist and knelt down to wedge the door open with it. She felt bad using her radio in this manner, and took great care in positioning it under the door before releasing it.

With the door propped open, Clementine moved over to the sink, hoping against hope that it still worked somehow. She turned one of the knobs, eager for even just a sip. Nothing. She tried the other knob, then both, desperate to find some combination that would produce water, but the result was always nothing.

Clem sighed to herself as she stepped back from the sink. Looking at herself in the mirror, she found herself discouraged by her own reflection. Her clothes smeared in blood and a tired look sitting on her sickly face. She turned towards the door, then looked back at the toilet.

Reluctantly, Clementine approached the toilet and put her hand on the lid. She wondered to herself if she was actually thirsty enough to even consider this, then decided she was and flipped the lid up. Looking into the toilet bowl, Clem found herself experiencing an odd mixture of relief and disappointment.

The toilet bowl was completely empty, which also meant there was no water in it. Looking past the lid, Clementine set her gun down on the empty toilet paper holder and grabbed the lid to the tank. Lifting it was a pain, being both heavy and awkward for Clem's small arms. As she tried to move it off the tank, Clem found the lid slipping from her grip before loudly smashing into the ground.

Peering into the tank, Clementine saw that it was empty too. It had become obvious to her that there was nothing to find here, but looking at the toilet again, she realized there was at least one thing this place could be useful for. Having rested for a bit, Clem realized she needed to pee badly and figured this was as good a place as any.

After undoing her pants and sitting down on the toilet, Clementine looked at her gun still sitting on the toilet paper holder and picked it up. She slid the magazine out and examined it. Looking on the back of it, there were numbered holes and she could see bullets inside the magazine up to the number nine. Remembering the bullet left in the gun, that made ten.

Feeling another scratching sensation in her throat, Clementine coughed again. Whatever she drank did little to quench her thirst, but it did seem to help her clear her throat a little. It was still sore, but after spitting she felt less congested. Clem took a deep breath, trying to relax a little, when she heard footsteps approaching.

Whoever it was, they sounded close, like right outside the door. Clementine reached down to pull up her pants, only to remember she was still holding her gun and its magazine. She hurried to reload it, but someone passing in front of the door and blotting out the light caused Clem to panic and drop the magazine into the toilet bowl.

Lurching forward was a large walker, likely following the sound of coughing or the tank lid breaking Clem realized. Remembering there was a bullet left in the gun, Clem took aim and pulled the trigger, but it didn't move. Clem hastily switched the safety off and tried again. The shot pierced the walker's neck, which caused it to stumble, but didn't kill it.

Clementine reached down into the toilet bowl and felt around for the magazine as the walker nearly closed the distance. Feeling the magazine in her fingers, Clem slammed it back into the gun and pulled the trigger, only for nothing to happen. She tried pulling the trigger again, but it was stuck. Just as the walker opened its jaws and lunged forward, Clementine pulled back on the slide and pulled the trigger once more.

The walker's body fell forward, bumping into Clementine as it did and knocking her off the toilet and onto the ground. Still reeling from the experience, Clementine pulled her pants up as fast as she could, ran to the door, collected her radio, then raced back towards the highway in a hurry.

Running along the road, Clementine searched for any more walkers possibly following the gunshot. Seeing none in the immediate area, she slowed down a bit, then just stopped. Clem took a couple of deep breaths and then looked back down the road. She could see the herd off in the distance, still lurching forward. And looking at her gun, Clem noted it only had eight bullets left in it now.


	66. Ten Miles

Clementine lurched forward at a modest pace, trying not to think about the myriad of problems near and far that were currently bothering her, the most current of which was how dark it was getting. It still wasn't night yet, but it was getting closer all the time, and with it still being cloudy, there'd be no moon or starlight, which means it'd be pitch black when it happens, and without Clem knowing if she was any closer to St. Christopher's.

Moving down the empty road, Clementine decided to stop and look at any church she passed. In her mind she knew she couldn't have gone ten miles already, yet she decided to look away, hoping somehow she'd find her destination anyway. If the others had come this way, maybe they were checking the churches too Clem reasoned.

Not surprisingly, the couple of churches she checked weren't called Saint Christopher's, but she did see one with a sign that read Saint John's Lutheran Church, which she couldn't help cringing at. Clem found herself wishing she'd asked Nick what Saint Christopher's looked like beyond 'can't miss it.' She also found herself wishing he was here, or Christa, or Sarah, or anyone really. She was nearly desperate enough to consider finding Matt good news, nearly.

Moving along the highway, Clementine also noticed several cars resting on the sides of the road, but never on it. Thinking about it, Clem realized Shaffer's must have cleared the roads to drive their trucks on. Because of this, Clem decided not to bother searching any of the nearby buildings for anything to eat or drink, figuring people from Shaffer's must have already taken everything, except maybe things left in the trash, and she wasn't hungry or thirsty enough to dig around in garbage cans again, at least not yet.

Looking around, Clementine noticed a large semi truck awkwardly parked on the side of the road. It had no trailer, but looking at how tall the cab was, Clem got an idea. Using the headlight as a step, Clementine climbed onto the hood of the vehicle. From there, she moved towards the windshield and hoisted herself on top of the cab itself. Then she carefully moved across the part that sloped upwards to the highest section of the vehicle.

Now standing on top of the truck, Clementine surveyed her surroundings. Sadly, she didn't see much of interest. Plenty of trees, more buildings off in the distance, and lots and lots of highway ahead of her. Looking back the way she came, Clementine couldn't quite be sure if she could see the herd or not. It looked like something was moving around on the horizon, but she couldn't be sure.

Clem had struggled to keep a decent pace, hoping she could put more room between her and the herd, but it was difficult. She was still exhausted, and running just seemed to make her cough worse, so she had to be careful not to overexert herself while still moving faster than the walkers. But reasoning she had established some distance from the herd, Clementine coughed to clear her throat, then opened her mouth to speak.

"Christa!" yelled Clementine as loudly as she could. The small girl waited for an answer, but heard nothing. "Christa!" she repeated, trying to shout even louder than before. Clem listened closely, hoping to hear someone call her name in the distance, but all she heard was the wind. "Nick!" Still no answer. "Sarah!" Clementine sighed to herself.

As she moved to climb down, Clem noticed something unusual out of the corner of her eye. Looking closer, she could definitely see some kind of dim light far down the highway. It may have been a fire, but she really couldn't tell from this distance. Whatever it was, it was in the direction she was going, so Clem reasoned she'd find out soon enough as she climbed down off the truck.

Landing back on the road, Clementine heard a rustling coming from the wooded area bordering the road. She turned to the noise and raised her gun. She watched as something emerged from the brush.

"Hello?" Clementine's nervous greeting was answered by a walker wandering out of the woods and towards the truck. Clementine groaned and lowered the gun, thinking it better to simply run than use another bullet and risk drawing more. As she was moving away, she heard a light thud. Turning back to the truck, she saw the walker banging on the side of it, presumably still chasing after Clementine's yells from a moment ago.

Clem observed the walker for a moment, then just shook her head and started moving forward again. As she was moving along, Clementine felt something wet land on her shoulder. Looking up she saw that it was starting to rain. At first it was just a few scattered drops drizzling about, but as Clem walked it slowly grew into a light shower.

As it started to rain a little harder, Clem arched her head back, trying to catch some of the drops in her mouth. Most of them just hit her face, but a few fell on her tongue, which made Clem thirsty for more. She cupped her hands together and waited impatiently as rain slowly filled them. Watching the rainwater pool, Clem also saw the blood and gore still on her hands.

Clem wrung her hands of the water and wiped them on her pants. Looking at them again, it seemed she wiped off some of the blood, but also smeared a little from her pants onto her hands. Clem groaned, suddenly wishing she had kept an empty bottle from earlier.

She started scanning the area for a trash can or anything she could use to collect rain water, then it dawned on her. Clem took off her hat and flipped it upside down. The outside was filthy, but the inside looked mostly clean, definitely more than her hands right now. She watched anxiously as drops of rain pooled at the bottom of the cap, then tried to lift the edge of the cap to her lips.

The hat's fabric tended to fold or wrinkle as she moved it, making it difficult to drink from. Clem groaned again, starting to think she should just stick her face in the hat and try to lick the water up like a dog. But then she noticed the strap and thought of a better way. She undid it, creating an opening in the back, and then carefully angled the hat backwards.

Feeling that cold rain water move down her sore throat was a sublime sensation. Clementine let out a long sigh of relief, and then held out her hat to collect some more. That second drink of water was almost as good as the first, allowing Clem to clear her throat a little, finally letting her breathe a little easier.

After a third drink, the initial elation of having some desperately needed drinking water wore off and Clementine felt the cold rain soaking into her clothes, making her feel even colder than she already was. Clem kept her hat out to collect more water but started moving forward again.

She looked about for somewhere to take shelter from the weather. There were more cars on the side of the road, but there were also a few homes nearby that would probably be warmer. As Clem pondered her options, she noticed a dim white light just up ahead through some of the brush.

Hurrying forward, Clementine found herself arriving at a long driveway leading up to a two story home tucked into the woods surrounding this section of the highway. She could see the light coming from somewhere on the front lawn now, not far from the door. Moving to the light, Clem could see an object covered in mud. Picking it up, see discovered it was a lantern.

"Sarah?" Looking more closely, it definitely resembled the lantern Sarah had from before. Clementine drank whatever water was left in her hat, then placed it back on her head. Picking up the muddy lantern, Clementine could see the handle on it was missing, but otherwise it was a perfect match.

"Sarah!" Clementine watched the windows on the house for any sign of movement. She edged closer, desperate for any sign of her missing friend. "Sarah!" yelled Clem as loud as she could. "Sarah! Where are you!" Clem heard a shuffling coming from the side of the house and rushed after it. Bolting past the edge of the house, Clem found the source, a walker.

The small girl yelped in surprise as the corpse lunged at her. Clem leapt out of the way just as the rotted beast swung its bony hand at her. Clementine ran a few feet away, and the walker followed after her.

"What?" Clementine moved towards the driveway, wondering if the walker was still following the sound of her shouting, but it changed direction and kept shambling towards her. "No. It can't. I…" Looking down at the front of her shirt, Clem noticed the rain had mostly washed away the blood and gore that had coated it, leaving only a light stain. She didn't smell like one of them anymore she realized.

Clementine turned away from the walker, narrowly avoiding another clumsy swipe of its hand. She turned around and started racing down the driveway, only to encounter a trio of walkers in front of her, all moving towards the house. With the other walker behind her, Clem ran to the opposite side of the house, where she found even more dead shambling around the corner to greet her.

Surrounded on all sides, Clem found herself backing towards the front of the house. Eyeing the door, she hurried over to it and turned the knob. It was unlocked, so Clem swung the door open, rushed inside and then slammed it back shut. She immediately reached for the lock and clicked it in place just as one of the walkers starting banging against the door.

Backing away from the door, Clem raised the lantern, trying to see her surroundings better. She wiped off the mud with her hand, allowing it to illuminate the area better. Clementine didn't see much of interest, but hearing more walkers banging on the front door certainly caught the girl's attention.

Rushing through the dark house as fast as she could, Clementine quickly located a glass sliding door at the back of the house. She raced over to it, only to recoil in terror when the lantern revealed a walker banging on the glass. Clem nervously took a few steps backwards, then heard something crunch under her foot.

Looking down at her feet, Clementine saw she was standing on something. Picking up the small object and bringing it into the light, Clementine recognized what she was holding. It was Sarah's glasses, one of the lenses cracked from where Clem had stepped on it. Before Clem could even begin to process this discovery, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the next room.

"Sarah?" Clementine watched as something crossed into the room. It was too far from the lantern for Clem to see well, but even in the low light she could see the familiar shuffle of a walker. Clementine also noticed one other thing. This walker was only a head taller than she was.

"No…" Clem whispered to herself as she watched the walker slowly lurch across the room. "I'm… I'm sorry Sarah," sobbed a heart broken Clementine as she pocketed Sarah's glasses. "I'm so sorry." Clementine pulled her gun from her waistband as the walker inched closer. "I'm sorry," repeated Clem as clicked the safety off, waiting for the walker to get close enough to the light to see its head. "I'm sorry!"

The walker lurched into the light and Clementine instinctively pulled the trigger. She slowly lowered the gun, tears streaming down her face as she did so. The girl choked back her cries as she slowly shuffled over to the now lifeless body of the walker. Her hand trembled as she moved the lantern closer to see her friend's face. And her legs wobbled as she bent down to look at it.

"It's…" Clementine viewed the walker's face. It looked like a teenage boy, or maybe just a short man. In either instance, it wasn't Sarah, or anyone else she knew.

"It's… it's not her," realized a relieved Clementine. "But—" The sound of glass shattering caused Clem to jump. She watched as several walkers burst into the room through the glass door. There was also a loud crunch from somewhere else in the house, leading Clementine to believe the front door had just been broken down.

Spinning around, Clementine spotted a staircase and started racing up it as fast as she could. Briefly looking back, Clem could see the walkers following after her. Reaching the top of the stairs, the terrified girl barged through the first door directly in front of her. Quickly scanning the room to make sure there weren't any more walkers, Clem spun around and locked the door.

Surveying her surroundings, Clem appeared to be in a bedroom. Her first instinct was to rush to the window. She slid it open and noticed it led out to a section of the roof she could stand on, but there was a metal screen in the way. Clementine pounded on the screen in frustration with her gun. It didn't give, but looking down, Clem noticed the screen was only held in place by a couple of clips she could undo from this side.

Clem set down her gun and reached for one of the clips, when a bump directly to her left caused the girl to jump. Clem hastily picked up her gun and spun around, finding herself aiming at a closet door. Suspecting another walker, Clementine set the lantern down and put her hand on the closet door. She yanked the door open and found the source of the bump.

"Sarah?"


	67. Friends Forever

Clementine looked down at the trembling teenager. She was tightly holding her knees to her chest as the rest of her body shook in fear. Her face was blank, except for an underlying look of pain around the corners of her bloodshot eyes. Looking at this sad sight, Clementine only had one response.

"Sarah!" Clementine dropped her gun and threw her arms around the older girl. But when Clem touched her, Sarah started thrashing in place, making panicked noises as if she was in pain. Clem hastily released Sarah, who stopped panicking and returned to her previous state.

"What's wrong?" Clementine's question received no answer. "You weren't bitten were you?" Clem hastily grabbed the lantern and started searching for any signs of a bite. Pulling one of Sarah's arms away from her caused her to start squealing until she yanked it away from Clem, who held onto it long enough to confirm there was no bite. Clem looked at the other arm and up and down Sarah's legs and back. There was an unsightly bruise around the older girl's neck where Bill had strangled her and still the scab on her forehead from where George hit her, but Clem couldn't find any other injuries. Nor could she find any blood except for the gore smeared across her clothes.

"What's wrong?" Looking at Sarah's face again, Clementine realized all too clearly what was wrong. "Oh Sarah… I… I know what it's like. I…" A loud bang came from the door and the sound of the undead scratching against it followed. "Oh no." Clementine turned back to Sarah.

"Sarah, we gotta go." Clementine grabbed Sarah's hand and tried to pull the older girl to her feet. The older girl started fidgeting in response before pulling her arm back. Clementine grabbed Sarah's arm with both hands this time and tried to force Sarah to move, but this just seemed to upset Sarah further, causing her to violently yank her arm back, pulling Clem over as she did so.

"Sarah!" Clementine sat up and looked at the door. She heard the wood begin to splinter as more walkers started piling against it. Clem rushed over to the window and hastily popped the clasps holding the screen. A quick shove dislodged the screen from the window. The younger girl ran back to grab the lantern and her gun, but couldn't pull her eyes away from a still traumatized Sarah.

"Sarah…" whispered Clem as she moved as closely to the girl as she could. "I know what it's like. It's… it's horrible. It's so horrible. You… you just feel like… nothing matters… and you just want to die," sobbed Clem. "But… but you can't give up. You… you just can't. Please. Please get up. You… you just gotta get up." Clementine watched as Sarah's face seemed to fidget a little, she seemed confused now, but no calmer.

"Please Sarah, just get up. All you have to do is get up." Clementine tried to take hold of Sarah's hands, but looking at her face, this just seemed to be making her more anxious. "Sarah—" Another crash came from the door. Looking at it, Clem could see a large crack forming in the middle of it and could hear more undead moaning from the other side of it.

Clementine looked at the window again, then turned back to Sarah. She looked like she was shaking less now, maybe. Her face may have twisted again, looking a little more afraid than before, but Clementine couldn't be certain. She didn't really know if anything she was saying had any effect on the older girl.

Hearing the door creak again sent Clementine's heart racing. She knew she couldn't force Sarah to leave, and she doubted there were enough bullets left in her gun to kill all the walkers outside either. The idea of leaving Sarah just sickened Clem, but racking her brain, she didn't know what else she could do. Only one last desperate thought entered Clementine's mind.

"Sarah…" Clementine balled up her hand, except for her pinky. She slowly moved her hand in front of Sarah's face. "Remember?" pleaded a desperate Clem. "Remember what you said? What we both said? We said we'd always be friends and that we'd be together," recited a tearful Clementine. "Please Sarah. Please…"

Clementine looked on in despair as Sarah sat there, the same wide-eyed expression of terror frozen on her face as when Clem first held out her hand. The young girl just sobbed to herself as it seemed there was nothing she could do to reach her friend. Turning back to the door, Clem saw it was nearly ready to snap in half. Seeing no choice, Clem thought to pick up her gun and the lantern, but felt something tugging on her pinky as she tried to pull her hand back.

"Cuh… Cuh… Clementine?" Clem looked back at Sarah, who had grasped the younger girl's pinky with her own. "You… you… you're… you're really here?" asked Sarah in bewilderment.

"Yes," professed Clementine, unable to contain her excitement. "I'm right here Sarah."

"Why?"

"What? What kind of question is that? I… I care about you. And… you're my friend," cried Clem. "I… I don't just leave friends behind." Clementine watched as Sarah's expression seemed to change, some of the fear in her eyes seemed to give way to a hint of a clarity.

"Please Sarah, you need to get up."

"I… I don't know… if I can."

"Yes you do."

"But—"

"Sarah," said Clementine as sternly as she could. "Just get up. All you have to do is stand up. You can do that, right? For me?" Clementine felt her heart skip a beat as she watched Sarah remove her hands from her knees. They shook badly as she planted them on them ground. Very slowly, Sarah stood up.

"Good," complimented a relieved Clem as she looked at Sarah, quivering in place. "Now…" The sound of wood splintering to pieces caused Sarah to yelp. Clementine watched as walkers flooded into the room. "This way!" Clem grabbed her gun and the lantern, then ran to the window.

The small girl struggled to lift herself up to the window while holding a gun and lantern in hand. She was about to just drop the items out the window, when she felt a pair of hands grab her waist. Sarah hoisted Clementine through the window, allowing her to tumble onto the slanted roof outside.

Clem spun around and saw Sarah hurrying out the window. She stepped onto the roof just as a walker stuck its arm out the window. Sarah screamed in surprise and tripped backwards, rolling down the roof and off the edge.

"Sarah!" Clementine rushed over to see Sarah lying on the ground below. Clem sat down on the edge of the roof and leapt off, dropping the lantern and falling forward onto the soft mud as she did so. Clementine stood up as fast as she could, grabbing the lantern as she did so. "Sarah?"

Clementine watched as Sarah stood up, her face and the front of her body covered in mud. Looking over to where the front door used to be, Clem watched as another walker started stumbling out towards them.

"Sarah run!" Sarah looked to Clem, who started running down the driveway and away from the house. Looking over her shoulder, Clem watched as Sarah reached Clementine's side, then ran past her and out onto the highway, where she waited for Clem.

Joining Sarah, Clem started running down the highway with her. The two ran forward on the road, rain drenching them both with every step, too afraid to slow down even for a second. Clementine felt her heart pounding as she tried to keep up with Sarah, but then felt a familiar sensation in her throat.

Clementine tried to stifle her coughs, but it just made things worse, sending her into a hacking fit. Clem stopped running and gasped in between coughs. After a couple of deep breaths she felt better. Clem held out the lantern and scanned the area, paranoid of more walkers approaching.

Looking down the road, Clementine watched as Sarah turned around and started running back. The older girl slowed to a stop at Clem's feet, then looked down at her. The pair just looked into each other's eyes, each as seemingly lost as the other, then Clementine acted. She threw her arms around Sarah and held onto her as tightly as she could.

"I'm so glad you're okay," professed Clem as she squeezed Sarah. Clem found herself waiting for Sarah to hold her, but she didn't. Letting go of Sarah, Clem saw a glazed over expression on her face now, as if she was barely aware of what was happening. "Oh, Sarah, I didn't mean okay, I…" Clem started coughing again.

"Are… are you okay?" asked Sarah in a quiet voice.

"Yeah, I'm… I'm just sick." Clementine looked around once more for any signs of walkers. Still no sign of them, but looking off in the distance, Clem saw another house not too far ahead, and it had a chimney. "We should get out of the rain. Before you get sick too."


	68. Childish Things

Clementine approached the front door of the house. It was a long single story building with a red door. Clem tightened her grip on her gun while Sarah moved up behind her, holding out the lantern as Clem had instructed her. Pulling on the knob, the door swung open. Looking at the lock, it was clearly broken, probably someone from Shaffer's doing.

Moving into the dwelling, Clem started slowly scanning the area as she passed through a dining room, kitchen, bathroom, two bedrooms, and several closets. In addition to not finding any walkers, Clem couldn't help noticing how empty this house was, again, likely because of Shaffer's.

After finding nothing of interest, dangerous or otherwise, Clem breathed a little easier. She tucked her gun into her pants and moved back into the living room, sitting down on one of the couches. Sarah sat down next to Clem, still holding the lantern. Clem sat there quietly for a moment, then looked up at Sarah.

Her eyes still look glazed over like she didn't know where she was, much like Adam looked most of the time. Thinking about it, Clem realized she didn't really know where she was either. Just that she wasn't at Saint Christopher's, and she didn't really know where that was either. Looking at the lantern, Clem saw Sarah was still holding it out like she had told her to.

"You can set that down now." Clem put her hand on Sarah's arm, who then lowered the lantern. Looking around, Clem spotted the fireplace across from the living room.

"Maybe… maybe we should get a fire going." Looking at the fireplace, Clem saw there was no wood in it. "Let me have that." Clem took the lantern and moved into the dining room, where she noticed some wood chairs.

She grabbed one and pulled it over to the fireplace. It was too big to fit inside, so Clem picked up the chair, which was difficult to do because of the size, and tried to toss it hard enough to break it. The chair bounced off the stone mantle, completely unharmed.

"I guess it doesn't matter," realized Clem. "We don't have anything to start a fire with." Clementine watched as Sarah moved her shaking hand into her pocket. She pulled out the fire starter she used back at Shaffer's, but dropped it as she moved her shaking hand.

"Do you think you could break that chair?" asked Clem as she picked up the fire starter.

"How?" asked Sarah in a quiet voice.

"Just… I don't know, bang it against the wall or something." Sarah slowly moved over to the chair and grabbed hold of it. She lifted the chair up over her head and knocked it against the wall, making a cracking sound. "Keep doing that, as hard as you can." Sarah slammed the chair against the mantle. There was another cracking sound, followed by a louder one as Sarah kept banging the chair against the mantle. A few more swings and one of the legs snapped off. "It's working."

Sarah repeatedly banged the chair against the wall, over and over with great force. One of the other legs broke off, then the last two, then the seat broke off from the back, which Sarah kept slamming against the wall, splintering it into smaller pieces with each successive hit.

"Okay that's good." Sarah kept smashing what little remained of the chair against the hard mantle, whittling it down to a couple of small chunks of wood in her hands. "Sarah stop." Sarah started pounding her fists against the stone, still gripping what little wood she had left, tears running down her face. "Sarah!" Clementine put her hands on Sarah's shoulders.

"It's okay. It's okay," whispered Clem in a worried voice. "You can stop now." Sarah dropped the fragments of the chair. Clem found it odd that despite the tears running down Sarah's face, she didn't seem to be crying. It was as if the sadness was just flowing right out of her without the need to express it. "You… you did a good job," assured Clem as she rubbed Sarah's back, trying to relax her.

Leaving Sarah to rest, Clementine collected the various pieces of the broken chair and started piling them into the fireplace. She picked up the fire starter and moved towards the wood. Looking at it, Clem saw the one slab was a small thin metal saw and the other a small gray brick of material. She started striking them together, but nothing happened.

"You… you have to hit the flint," explained Sarah in a quiet monotone.

"Flint?" asked Clem.

"The little black strip on the other side." Clementine examined the gray brick more closely, finding one side had a rod of black metal attached to it. Clementine started scraping the flint with the saw, creating sparks.

"You… you also need to scrape off some magnesium, to burn," explained Sarah.

"Mag what?" asked Clem.

"Magnesium. It's the gray part. You use the saw to scrape off little pieces. Then you sweep them into a pile and use the flint to light it."

"I don't remember you doing that at Shaffer's," noted Clem.

"I'd always scrape some off into a piece of paper before I left in the morning, so we…" Sarah started breathing harder. "So we… we could have a fire… when he got back and—"

"Okay, okay," interrupted Clementine, trying to preempt Sarah's breakdown. "I'll… I'll take care of it. It's just, I guess you made it look easy."

"I… I could do it," suggested Sarah.

"You sure? You don't…" Sarah took the fire starter back from Clem. She watched as Sarah unchained the saw from the magnesium and set them near the fireplace. She rearranged the broken chair pieces in the fireplace, then started scooping up splinters and smaller pieces of wood Clementine had missed and put them under the pile. She moved with such efficiency in this task that it seemed second nature to her.

"I… I need something to get it going," said Sarah in a quiet voice.

"Like what?" asked Clem.

"We…" Sarah seemed to zone out for a moment. "We always used paper." Clementine didn't remember seeing anything paper when they searched the house. No books, no magazines, no cardboard boxes, not even toilet paper. Thinking to herself, Clem remembered something. She took off her backpack and unzipped it. Clem pushed her radio aside and pulled out her drawings, along with the note Sarah wrote her.

She looked at them all. First her picture of Lee, the one she drew after she watched him bury some other poor child. Then the one of Kenny, Katjaa and Duck she made shortly before losing all of them. Then Sarah's note. Looking over at the traumatized girl, Clem let the note slip back into the pack, then set out the two drawings before Sarah.

"Here," spoke a reluctant Clem. "Use these." Sarah moved in to pick up one of the drawings, but Clem placed the fire starting tools on top of them. "You can start a fire with these, right?"

"Um… yeah," said Sarah in a weak voice.

"Okay. You do that," instructed Clem as she set her pack down. "I'm… I saw some bowls in the kitchen. I'm going to set them outside so we can have some water to drink." Clementine left Sarah alone and carefully moved through the dimly lit house. She stacked up some bowls sitting in the sink, then headed out the front door.

As she arranged the bowls on the front step, Clementine noticed it was raining a little softer now. She also noticed it was getting darker. Night was probably only an hour away, if that much, and it was already hard to see in the low light as it was. Clem found herself hoping it stopped raining before then. Wandering around in the dark sounded bad enough without being rained on.

Moving back into the kitchen, Clementine searched the drawers and cabinets for anything useful. Not shockingly, she didn't find a speck of food and most of the drawers were empty. Digging around under the sink, Clem did discover something tucked in the corner just out of sight. Pulling her hand back, she found herself holding a pair of scissors.

Figuring it was better than nothing, Clemtucked them into her pocket. Moving into the bedroom, Clem discovered there were no blankets or pillows on the bed, nor any clothes in any of the dressers. However, there was still a sheet on the bed, so Clem pulled it off the bed and took it with her. She walked into the bathroom next, hoping to find a towel she overlooked.

Searching the bathroom produced nothing useful. Clem instead took the scissors and started cutting the sheet in half, figuring it could work as a couple of towels for her and Sarah. As she finished, Clem caught sight of herself in the mirror. She couldn't really see her reflection that well in the dim light, but she could see the scissors in her hand.

Clementine took off her hat and set it on the counter. Running her fingers through her own hair, Clem realized it had been a while since she had cut it and it was getting somewhat long. She pulled part of hair back and started snipping. Normally when she did this, she took great care not to cut off too much hair, just enough to tie back into pigtails.

But looking at herself in the mirror now, or actually not in the dim light, Clementine wondered to herself why she was even bothering. No one cared what she looked like anymore, why should she? Clem took a handful of hair and quickly cut it off. Then again, closer to her scalp this time.

Not able to see what she looks like, Clem found it easier to cut her hair this time. She kept cutting and cutting, even pulling on her pigtails and cutting them clean off. Eventually Clementine found herself unable to grasp any of her remaining hair, and figured that was good enough.

She pocketed the scissors, then looked in the mirror again. It was still too dark to clearly see her reflection, but she could see the shape of her head, and it looked like she didn't have any hair anymore. Clem quickly put her hat back on. Looking down at the sheets, she saw clumps of curly hair and a pair of elastic ties attached to what used to be her pigtails.

Clementine shook them off the sheets, then left the bathroom. Moving back into the living room, Clem could see a small fire going. She felt a tinge of sadness as she realized this meant her drawings were gone, but, she figured being warm was more important.

"Good job," praised Clem as she sat down next to Sarah. "I couldn't find any towels, but I figured we could use these instead." Clementine handed Sarah one of the sheets, who just looked down at it in confusion. "You know, so we could dry ourselves off." Sarah just kept looking at the sheet. "You… you should take off your jacket. It's probably soaked." Sarah did as she was told, unzipping the jacket and laying it down in front of Clementine.

"You should take off your shoes too and set them next to the fire." Sarah untied her shoes, as did Clem, both setting them near the fire. Clem also moved Sarah's jacket nearer the fire, hoping to dry it a little. Clem then moved in closer herself, taking great comfort in the warm orange glow of the small fire. She took the sheet and started drying herself the best she could, an action Sarah slowly imitated.

"I'll get us some water. You must be thirsty." Sarah made no response. Clementine set the sheet down and stepped back outside. It was raining even less now and looked like it was on the verge of stopping. But looking up, Clem saw no end to the dark clouds that blanketed the sky.

Clementine took one of the bowls and sipped some of the water. Then set it back down, hoping to catch a little more rain before it stopped. She then took two other bowls and carefully carried them back into the living room, setting them by Sarah.

"Go head and drink some water," instructed Clem. "I'll be right back." Clem moved back outside and grabbed the last bowl. Moving back into the living room she found Sarah grimacing in pain, holding one of the bowls in one hand and rubbing her throat with the other. "What's wrong?"

"Hurts…" answered a pained Sarah.

"Hurts?" repeated Clem.

"It hurts to swallow," clarified Sarah, flinching as she did so. Clementine looked at the horrible bruise around Sarah's entire neck. She could almost see the shape of Bill's hands in it.

"I'm sorry Sarah," said a sympathetic Clem. "But you need to drink some water." Sarah looked at Clem, clearly not looking forward to drinking anymore. "Just, take little sips. And, I'll help dry you off." Sarah sighed as she moved the bowl to her lips. Clementine took the other sheet and started toweling off Sarah the best as she could. Bits of blood stained the sheets as she did so, but the rain had already washed away most of the walker gore.

As Sarah drank from the bowl, Clementine could hear the older girl whimpering in pain after each sip. She almost wanted to tell her to stop, feeling horrible as she listened to Sarah force herself to drink the water. As Clementine moved to drying Sarah's hair, she noticed how long it was. Clem sighed to herself as she set the sheet down.

"Sarah," said Clem. "There's something else we need to do."

"What?" asked Sarah, sounding unconcerned.

"You're… you're not going to like it." Clementine waited for Sarah to respond, but she didn't. "I need to cut your hair, so it's short enough where someone can't grab it." Clem looked at Sarah's face. She looked upset, but no more than usual. "I mean, you remember when Consuelo grabbed your hair? I need to cut it so something like that won't happen again. Okay?"

"Okay," shrugged Sarah. Clementine took the scissors out of her pocket and took a handful of Sarah's hair, careful not to pull on it. Clem sighed as she found herself envying Sarah's long messy hair. She always thought it made the older girl look playful and inviting. But now Sarah was utterly miserable, so Clem moved the scissors to the older girl's hair. She hesitated to make a cut, thinking to herself how much easier it was when she couldn't see what she was doing.

"I'm sorry Sarah." Clem took a breath and started cutting. She felt a little worse with each clump of hair that hit the ground, remembering how much she hated it when Lee cut her hair. But Clem simply told herself it was for the best, even if she didn't like it. Eventually, Clem found herself unable to get a good grasp on Sarah's hair and figured that was good enough.

Looking at Sarah, Clem thought she looked strange with short hair, but that might just be because she really liked Sarah's hair. Clem also noticed how much different Sarah looked without her glasses, and couldn't decide if she liked her better with or without them. Then Clem remembered she actually had Sarah's glasses.

"I almost forgot," said Clem as she pulled Sarah's glasses out of her pocket. "I stepped on them by mistake, but they're mostly okay." Sarah looked at her glasses for a moment, before taking them and slowly putting them back on. Although Clem still wasn't sure if she liked Sarah better with or without glasses, she did know she hated seeing her look so miserable.

"I… I bet I could make you smile," teased Clementine. "Would you like that?" Clem moved her finger under Sarah's chin, tickling the girl. Sarah flinched slightly in response, but nothing else. Clem tried tickling Sarah harder, but it seemed to have no effect. "You… you're not ticklish," realized Clem.

"No," answered Sarah in a quiet voice. "I used to be, but…" Sarah trailed off, looking more miserable than before.

"Sarah, I know how awful you feel right now. And that's okay, because what happened was awful. It… it was the worst thing ever," lamented a saddened Clementine. "But we have to keep going. We need to get to Saint Christopher's." Clementine found Sarah's silence unnerving.

She couldn't help thinking Sarah was mad at her for shooting Carlos. The guilt was eating away at Clem, but not as much as the uncertainty. She felt tempted to just ask Sarah if she was mad at her, but that would mean mentioning what happened to Carlos, and Clem didn't want to bring that up so soon. Instead, Clementine moved in as close as she could to Sarah, then placed her hand on top of Sarah's hand, slowly closing her fingers around it.

"I'll take care of you Sarah," promised a guilt-stricken Clem. "I'll take care of you."

"You… you will?" asked Sarah, sounding confused.

"Yeah, you don't have to worry, just let me handle things," insisted a worried Clem. "I'll get us to Saint Christopher's, and we'll find Nick and Christa, and get the stuff Pete left us and go somewhere better. Okay?"

"Okay…" shrugged Sarah. Clementine moved her other arm around Sarah and embraced the older girl.

"If you need anything, just say so. Okay?" Sarah didn't respond, so Clementine let her go. The pair sat by the dwindling fire for a moment. Their clothes weren't exactly dry so much as damp now, but it was still an improvement.

After getting warmed up a little, Clem drank one of the bowls of water and urged Sarah to drink the other. While Sarah struggled to sip from the bowl, Clem took the two empty bowls back outside. It had stopped raining, but it was still overcast. Clementine drank what was left in the one remaining bowl. She coughed a couple of times to clear her throat, then stacked the empty ones together.

Clementine moved back inside and packed the bowls into her backpack. Looking inside, she couldn't find Sarah's note, only the radio. Looking at the dying fire, Clem assumed Sarah must have needed it too and just sighed. Clementine packed the scissors and zipped up her bag. She put her shoes on, which were pleasantly warm thanks to the fire. Then picked up Sarah's jacket.

She helped the older girl slip her coat back on, guiding one of her arms into the sleeve, which seemed to be enough to spur Sarah into putting on the other sleeve. As Sarah zipped up her jacket, Clementine noticed the lantern's handle was still clipped to Sarah's waistband.

Clementine unhooked it and looked at the lantern. The handle was just made out of plastic and Clem could see a pair of holes on the side of the lantern where it would fit. With a bit of force, Clem bent the handle back just enough to let it snap into place. Looking back, Clementine saw Sarah slowly tying her shoes.

"Okay, we have to be careful," warned Clementine as she put her backpack on. "The rain washed off the walker stuff, and I don't have many bullets left. We need to get back on the highway and get to Saint Christopher's. Okay?" Sarah didn't answer. "We gotta walk again. Do you understand?"

"Yeah…" she murmured without looking at Clem.

"Okay, come on." Clementine handed Sarah the repaired lantern, then took the older girl's hand. Clem tugged on her arm, prompting her to stand up. Clem guided Sarah to the front door. "It'll be okay Sarah," assured Clementine as they walked down the driveway. "It's going to be—"

Clementine looked on in terror at the herd. There had to be hundreds of them just a few hundred feet down the road, all shuffling closer to where Clementine and Sarah were standing. Clem tightened her grip on Sarah's hand, and her gun.

"Come on," urged Clementine. "We're going to have to run for a while."


	69. Desires to Be Grown Up

The biting cold was worse than ever, with the wind rushing past Clem's damp clothes creating a horrible chill all over the weary girl's tired body. The looming clouds continued to block out whatever little waning sunlight was left, and Clem was worried it'd start raining again soon.

Confident they still hadn't traveled ten miles yet, Clem simply ignored most of her surroundings and just tried to force herself to keep running. Even maintaining a modest pace, Clementine found herself regularly gasping for breath. Every time she felt like stopping she'd tell herself, 'just a bit further.'

This kept Clem moving for a time, but after a while stopping was all she could think about. Beside her was Sarah, who seemed to be keeping pace with relative ease. Clem couldn't help envying the older's girl stamina, but one look at Sarah's face and that envy vanished.

Feeling another cough coming, Clem stopped for a moment and covered her mouth. Her hand was mostly clean now, at least enough where the smell wasn't bothering her anymore. She took a couple of deep breaths, then started running again, only to struggle to return to her original pace.

"Maybe…" spoke Sarah. "Maybe you should rest."

"I'm fine," insisted Clem as she panted for air.

"We've been running for a while, and I don't see them anymore."

"They're still back there," argued Clem "And—" Another coughing fit forced Clementine to stop. She hacked up some phlegm and then started taking deep breaths. Sarah walked over to the sickly girl as she tried to breathe. Looking at Sarah, Clem saw the concern in her face and sighed.

"I guess we can rest for a little while." Clementine looked around for any signs of walkers. It was nearly dark now, making it hard to see. But she didn't hear anything, nor did she see anything moving. She searched the area for anything that might be Saint Christopher's, only to realize she didn't even know what it looked like.

"Let's… let's at least go inside, where it's not as cold," suggested Clem as she moved away from the road. She looked over at a small parking lot and a couple of buildings. "Turn the lantern on." Sarah switched the light on and followed Clem into the parking lot. As they neared one of the buildings, Clem could read a sign that said 'Emmet's Hunting Outlet.'

"This one," dictated Clementine as she aimed her gun at the door. "Stay close. Just in case there's something in there." Sarah nodded and held the lantern out so Clem could see. Clementine pulled the door open and stepped inside. The store was a mess and many of the shelves were empty, but not all of them.

Looking at the displays, it appeared things like batteries, lamps, flashlights, matches, and other expendable items had been cleared out by someone. However there were still several partially stocked shelves with tools and other useful items, and there seemed to be more things scattered about on the ground.

The pair quickly checked behind the counter, through the aisles, in the bathrooms and in the supply room. No signs of anyone dead or alive, at least not recently. Clementine led Sarah back towards the front door, where a small bit of light was still shining in the through the windows. Looking at the not yet completely empty shelves, Clem got an idea.

"Can you watch the front door for a little while?" asked Clem as she tucked her gun back into her pants.

"Wuh… why?" asked Sarah, a hint of worry in her question.

"There's a bunch of stuff here. I bet we could use some of it," explained Clem. "Let me borrow the lantern." Sarah reluctantly handed the lantern to Clem. "Just rest. If you see anything outside, just let me know. Okay?" Sarah nodded slightly then sat down in front of the door and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"I won't go far," assured Clem, hoping to comfort Sarah a little. Turning away from the older girl, Clem started exploring the store more thoroughly. She started by moving back to what looked like a clothing section. Clementine hoped to find a jacket, but no luck. Most of the actual clothing was already gone. There were still a few backpacks left. Clementine pulled one off the shelf and set it down on the ground.

It was a lot more elaborate than the one Clem had, with numerous pouches and a mesh material that covered parts of the pack, forming more compartments. The backpack was also a good bit bigger than Clem's current one. Removing the old one and trying on the new one, Clem found even empty it was awkward to wear on her back. Setting the bigger pack next to her old one, Clementine realized it would probably fit Sarah.

Looking a little past the empty clothing racks, Clem noticed some leather gun holsters and belts set out on the next shelf. She removed the gun from her waistband and tried inserting it into one of the holsters. It seemed to fit snugly, and there was a small clip that secured it. Flipping the holster around, Clementine realized she'd need a belt too.

Grabbing the smallest one she saw, Clem tried threading it through the loops on her pants, but found it was too large for her to use. Clem took the scissors from her pack and tried to cut the belt shorter, but had no success. The scissors worked fine for hair, but not so much for leather. Setting them aside, Clem grabbed the lantern and moved into another aisle.

Looking at a variety of knives, Clem honed in on one of the smaller blades, noting it came with its own sheath. Since she was trying to get a belt to hold her gun, Clem figured a knife couldn't hurt too and grabbed it. As she moved back towards where the backpacks were lying, Clem noticed what looked like a tiny pair of hedge clippers sitting on a shelf.

Picking them up, she could see the sticker on the handle read 'tin snips.' Clem remembered Tom saying he used something called tin snips to cut through chain link fences. Figuring a fence was harder to cut through than a belt, Clem grabbed them as well. After setting everything down, Clem found the tin snips easily cut through the leather. Trying the belt on now, it fit, but there were no holes left on it for the buckle.

Clem took off the belt again and used the knife she took to create some new holes. First by stabbing the belt, then twisting it in place to widen the opening. Trying the belt on yet again, Clem found she was just able to buckle it with the crude holes she made. Clem threaded the belt through the holster and the knife's sheath, the tightened her new belt.

Looking down, Clem saw her gun on her right side and the knife on the left. She pulled the gun from the holster, finding it satisfying how much easier it was then using her backpack or having to reach backwards to pull it out of her waistband. She also briefly pulled the knife out of the sheath, then replaced it, filling a small rush in confidence with her new arrangement.

Clementine set the tin snips near one of the backpacks, figuring they'd probably be useful. She also set the scissors out, thinking even if they weren't as useful, she'd still rather cut her hair with them than tin snips. Moving to another aisle, Clem located some canteens and took one, then realized Sarah would need one and took another.

Moving through the store Clementine found a compass and a length of rope lying on the ground, both of which she took. As she eyed the shelves, Clem spotted some raincoats and immediately grabbed two of them. She dropped one by the bigger backpack and opened the other one. Trying it on, Clem found herself annoyed that the sleeves were too long.

She took off the raincoat and grabbed the tin snips. After shearing some length off each sleeve, the raincoat fit better now. She folded it up and placed it and the tin snips with the backpacks, rope, canteens, compass and scissors. Looking at what she gathered, Clem found that they could probably still use a weapon other than a gun to deal with walkers.

Wandering through the store, Clem stopped by a selection of machetes. Looking at them, Clementine honed in on one that seemed to come with its own sheath. Picking it up, Clem noticed it had a strap and didn't hesitate to throw it on her back. Reaching back to remove the blade proved awkward, Clem's arms being a bit too short to pull the machete completely out of the sheath.

After a couple of failed attempts, Clem just stopped and removed the entire machete from her back. Pulling the blade partially out, Clem noted it looked very sharp, and one side had a serrated edge. Clem sheathed the machete and threw it over her shoulder, reasoning Sarah could probably use it. Clem however still felt she could use another weapon, thinking the small knife she had wouldn't be enough.

She looked at more machetes, some shorter than the one she took. She picked up a hatchet, finding it difficult to use in one hand and a little small to use with two hands. Looking at her choices, nothing quite stood out to her. Everything seemed too big or too small for someone her size to use on walkers. She turned to move into another aisle, but her foot bumped into something.

Looking down she saw an odd weapon. It appeared shorter than an axe but longer than all the hatchets. Picking it up, Clementine found the blade was covered with some sort of fabric sheath. Pulling it off, she was surprised to see that along with an axe head, there was a knife-like point jutting out from the other end. It reminded Clem a little of Molly's strange pickaxe weapon, but this one had an end that looked like a normal axe.

Testing the weight of the weapon, it felt good in Clem's hands. Gripping the tool, she found it amusing the handle was actually purple. She took a couple of practice swings and felt confident she could inflict some damage if she had to. Examining the odd knife-like protrusion, Clem noticed it looked very sharp. Flipping the tool around in her hands, Clem realized she could use the pointed end as well as the axe head.

Satisfied with her find, Clementine returned to the pile of equipment she had collected. Setting the machete down, Clem realized her weapon lacked any kind of strap to make it easier to carry. Noticing a couple of holes in the handle and a small loop of rope tied to the one near the bottom, Clem got another idea.

She took the length of rope she found earlier and used the tin snips to cut a small piece off from it. Clem removed the smaller loop of rope from the handle, then threaded her own piece through it and tied a knot. She tugged on the rope to make sure the knot would hold, then threaded the other piece through a hole in the head of the axe and tied another knot.

Clem moved to hoist the weapon onto her shoulder, but seeing the knife end move that close to her face made her think twice. She retrieved the sheath she removed earlier and placed it over the end of the weapon. Again, Clem hoisted the weapon onto her shoulder. The sheath seemed effective. Even resting the axe head on her shoulder she couldn't feel the blade.

Clem quickly removed the weapon from her shoulder and yanked the sheath off. It was a simple enough action and didn't take too long. Clem placed the sheath back on and set the axe next to the machete. Clementine packed the scissors, rope, unaltered raincoat and a canteen into the larger pack, pocketed the compass, then packed the tin snips and other raincoat into her pack along with a canteen.

Digging around Clem found the fire starter and bowls she took earlier. She left the fire starter alone but moved a couple of the bowls into the larger pack before zipping it up. Clem was about to zip up her own pack, but then she noticed her radio sitting inside. She pulled it out and looked at it. Clem thought about leaving it behind. She didn't actually want to use it again, and the only reason she was keeping it was sentimental value.

Yet Clem couldn't seem to set it down. She found her hand moving to the knob, switching it on. Clem traced her finger up and down the talk button, tempted to say something into it, even though she knew there wasn't anyone listening. Clem wondered if it was because no one was listening that she wanted to say something. It felt comforting thinking she could talk without fear of anyone hearing how she felt.

"Come back." Clementine dropped the radio in surprise when she heard Hector's voice. "Gertrude, come back. Are you there?" Clementine hastily retrieved her radio.

"Yeah, I'm still here," answered Gertrude, sounding exhausted. "I think Gene and I got all the ones west of the warehouse."

"What about Lauren?" asked Hector. "Has there been any word from the greenhouse?"

"It's Dr. Bostwick!" barked the doctor, sounding even angrier than usual. "And the greenhouse still stands, no thanks to any of you fucking idiots!"

"Great, what about—"

"Why'd I even bother feeding all these extra Y chromosome meatheads if they couldn't even manage the simple task of bashing things in the head!"

"Lauren, please," begged an anxious Gertrude.

"Three years of lacrosse, that's all I needed to deal with these abominations!" rambled Bostwick. "If your supposed armed and trained personnel can't handle this, then what the fuck do I need any of you for!"

"Doc, get off the damn line!" ordered Hector. "Has anyone seen Byron? He hasn't called in since he cut through the fence to set off the rockets." Clementine switched off the radio, realizing she didn't want to hear any more.

"Byron…" Clementine looked over her shoulder and found Sarah standing behind her. "He… he's dead. Isn't he?" asked Sarah in a sad voice.

"I don't know," said Clem. "Probably."

"It's… it's my fault," spoke a crestfallen Sarah.

"You didn't do anything wrong," insisted Clem. "We were just trying to leave. And you even told Bill about the guns because you didn't want Byron to get hurt. And he still tried to stop us. So, you got nothing to feel bad about." Clementine looked at Sarah, bothered by how empty Sarah's face appeared.

"Byron was the one who gave me the gun."

"What?" asked Clem in disbelief. "When?"

"Right after he took me to my room, that night…" Sarah grew further upset as she recalled that incident. "He… he told me to hide it, and not tell anyone about it."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But I think he wanted to escape too." Clem grimaced as she realized that it must have been Byron that Sarah wanted to tell about the escape plan. "I thought since I was leaving, I should just take it with me."

Clem sighed. "Let's just go." Clem tossed her radio back into her pack and zipped it up. "I got some things we could use, and I got this for you." Clementine picked up the machete. Sarah just stared at, unsure what to think. "I think it'll fit on you." Clem looped the strap around Sarah's body and tightened it until it fit snugly. "Go head. Try it."

Sarah's still shaking hand reached over her shoulder. She grasped at the air a couple of times before finding the hilt of the machete, then pulled it free of the sheath. Sarah examined the weapon in her still trembling hands, an uncertain look on her face.

"Um, it's cool, right?" suggested a hopeful Clem.

"I guess." Clem sighed in response to Sarah's uninterested shrug.

"Well, hopefully you won't need it." Sarah tried to move the machete back to the sheath, but her hands were still shaking. "Here, let me help." Clem carefully guided the blade back to the sheath, allowing Sarah to put it away. "Here, put this on too." Clem handed Sarah the bigger backpack.

"What is it?" asked Sarah.

"Just some stuff that might come in handy," explained Clem as she put her pack on. "It's not too heavy is it?"

Sarah put the backpack on. "No," she said.

"Good, because we've probably rested long enough." Clementine handed the lantern to Sarah, then picked up her axe, using her newly made strap to hoist it onto her shoulder. "Come on. All we have to do is keep moving," assured Clem. "We've got to be getting close."

Clementine and Sarah moved back to the front door and stepped outside, finding themselves standing in total blackness. Looking up, Clem couldn't see any stars or moonlight, leading her to think it must still be cloudy. And she saw no other sources of light anywhere, other than the small lantern in Sarah's hands. The pair stepped slowly forward, only able to see a little ahead of them. They stepped back on the highway and stopped.

"Where… where do we go?" asked a nervous Sarah.

"This way." Clementine turned right and took a few steps forward, but stopped when she didn't see the light following her. "Sarah, come on."

"How do you know that's the right way?" asked Sarah.

"Because, the store was on our right when we stopped. And if we turned around it would be on our left. So this has to be the right way."

"How do you know we were even going the right way before?" asked Sarah, no less anxious than before.

"Because, Nick said take a right and keep going until we find Saint Christopher's."

"Maybe we're on the wrong road."

"We're not on the wrong road."

"How can you be sure?"

Clem groaned. "Because…" Clem thought to herself, then reached into her pocket. "Nick said Saint Christopher's was north of here." Clem removed the compass she pocketed. "And this way goes north. See?"

"But, what if we already went past it? Or—"

"Sarah, we have to keep moving."

"Why?" asked Sarah in a dispirited voice.

"What?" Clementine found Sarah's question irritating. She thought to herself on how to answer, but then noticed a noise off in the distance. It sounded like tons of meat slowing moving across the asphalt towards where the girls were standing. Sarah turned towards the disturbing noise, trembling as she tried to see the herd, but the small lantern couldn't cut through the pervasive darkness.

"That's why we need to keep moving." Clem took hold of Sarah's hand. "Come on." Clem moved forward, only to find herself tugging on Sarah's arm. "Sarah."

"Right…" she said in a soft voice. Clem felt Sarah move beside her, and the pair started moving further down the dark road.


	70. The Darkest Hour

Clementine kept marching forward. With it being too dark to see anything without the lantern, she couldn't run too fast. It was getting colder too, much to Clem's annoyance. Even worse, the wind had picked up. Luckily it was to her back, but it still made Clementine feel even worse, making her shiver as she moved along. She started rubbing her arms, trying to warm herself.

Looking over at Sarah, Clem was worried. Her face didn't look blank anymore, but miserable. Clem liked to think it was just because things were miserable. But something in Sarah's eyes suggested it wasn't just their current circumstances that were bothering her. Everything else that had happened seemed to be weighing the older girl down, slowing her footsteps as she walked.

Clementine herself was finding it harder and harder to keep moving. Now that she wasn't that thirsty anymore, she had become aware of just how hungry she was. Also, Clem still wasn't sure what they were looking for, other than a church they supposedly couldn't miss. But it was so dark Clem was confident she would miss a whale if it were anywhere other than in the middle of the road.

The wind started blowing harder, almost as if it was trying to push Clem over. The small girl stumbled a little as another gust blew through. She stopped to cough a few times, trying to clear her throat, then started walking again. The wind picked up once more, nearly knocking Clementine forwards.

Before Clementine could fully regain her footing, she found Sarah's hand on her shoulder, holding her steady. Clem gazed into the older girl's sad brown eyes as she looked down at her. Clementine wanted to tell Sarah she was fine, but she couldn't find it in herself to lie to the older girl. Instead, she just kept walking, until she heard a loud bang off to her right.

"What… what was that?" asked a trembling Sarah.

"I… I don't know," said Clem. "It didn't sound like a gunshot though." Clementine moved towards the noise and off the edge of the road, where there was almost no light.

"Sarah, come on," urged Clem.

"Why?" asked a nervous Sarah.

"I just want to see what's over there, that's all." Sarah remained on the road. "It'll just take a minute." Sarah sighed to herself, then moved closer to Clem. They left the road and started moving across a parking lot. As they moved further in, the lantern illuminated the side of a large building.

"What is this?" asked Sarah in a hushed voice.

"Maybe, maybe this is Saint Christopher's?" suggested a hopeful Clem.

"It doesn't look like a church."

"How would you know? We've only seen this one wall." Sarah flinched a little in response to Clem's harsh tone. "Come on. This place looks huge, it must be what we're looking for. That noise may have even been Christa or Nick." Clementine started moving beside the building. It certainly was huge as Clem suspected, but she couldn't find a sign or banner or anything that would tell her just what she's looking at.

Reaching the edge of the wall, Clem turned a corner and started moving forward, staying close to the building as she did so. Still she saw nothing that told her what this building was for, nor did she see any doors or windows even. Clem began to suspect Sarah was right and that this wasn't a church. She was about to turn back when she spotted someone lying on the ground just near the edge of the light.

"Wait," instructed Clementine in a quiet voice. Looking more closely, Clem saw whoever this was must be dead, and for a while. The body was rotted and smeared in dried blood, but Clem couldn't be sure if it was just a body or a walker waiting for someone. The young girl carefully removed her axe from her shoulder and took off the sheath. She flipped it over so the knife end was sticking out and tightened her grip.

Clem inched up to the body and swung the axe down, driving the pointed end into the corpse's skull. The attack didn't seem to spur any kind of response. Pulling the blade out, Clem reasoned if it wasn't fully dead before it certainly was now. She sheathed the end of her axe and hoisted it back onto her shoulder. Approaching the body, Clem discovered both the person's legs were badly broken. She stooped down to look more closely at the corpse.

"What are you doing?" whispered Sarah.

"Maybe we can use him." Clementine coughed a few times, then cleared her throat. "It'd be like before. We cover ourselves—" Sarah screamed and Clem spun around to see a walker had grabbed the older girl by the shoulders, ready to bite her neck.

Without even thinking, Clem drew her gun, clicked the safety off and pulled the trigger. It happened so fast Clem didn't even realize she had successfully shot the walker until a terrified Sarah came running over to her, whimpering in fright. Clem quickly moved behind Sarah, looking for any bite marks on the back of her neck, and breathed a sigh of relief when she found none.

"Let's… let's just get out of here," urged a panicking Sarah, lantern trembling in her hands.

"Yeah… yeah let's just get back to the road," agreed Clem, nearly panicking herself as she holstered her gun. The pair started hurrying back towards the parking lot, but Sarah screamed as another pair of walkers stumbled into the light.

"This way!" Clem grabbed Sarah's hand and started running back the other way. As they ran, Clem found herself narrowly dodging the two corpses lying on the ground, only to trip over something else. Clem scrambled back to her feet, finding a large sliding ladder sitting on the ground. Sarah stepped over it to help Clem up.

"Come on." Clem grabbed Sarah and started moving again. They ran past a large loading door and nearly into a trio of walkers that were moving towards them. Clem darted to the right, dragging Sarah along with her, but stopped abruptly when she saw another two walkers at the edge of the lighted area.

Taking another sudden right, Clem found herself passing over the ladder again and found the duo of walkers from before lurching forward. Clem reached for her gun, but then she saw more walkers behind them, and realized she wouldn't be able to shoot them in time, even assuming she had enough bullets left.

Clem spun around again, her heart pounding against the side of her chest as she ran to the loading door. She tried pulling it open, but it wouldn't budge in the slightest. Panic swept over the small girl as she saw walkers closing in on the loading area from every direction.

Clem looked to Sarah, and saw only unbridled terror on the older girl's face. Clementine frantically looked around for anything at all that could help. Looking up, Clem noticed there was an overhang above the loading door, much like the one the pen had. Then looking back to Sarah, Clem saw the ladder lying behind her.

Clementine sprinted to the ladder. She tried lifting it up, but it was so large and heavy she could only lift it a few feet. Looking ahead Clem saw the walkers closing in and strained harder, only managing to lift the ladder above her head. The exhausted nine-year-old felt her arms nearly ready to snap when she noticed the still trembling Sarah right next to her.

"Sarah!" yelled Clem in desperation.

"Wuh… we… I…" babbled a petrified Sarah.

"Sarah we're going to die!" Clem's panicked declaration seemed to at least catch Sarah's attention. "Help me!" Sarah stood there in shock for a moment, then dropped the lantern and hurried to Clem's side. Sarah quickly started lifting the ladder higher and the pair managed to push it into an erect position.

"The… thing, over the big door!" Clem felt her arms ache as she and Sarah carried the ladder towards the door a few feet, before losing their grip on it. The ladder fell forward and banged into the overhang. Seeing walkers everywhere, Clementine grabbed the lantern and started climbing the ladder.

It wobbled badly the further Clem climbed, making the girl feel sick as it seemed like the whole thing was about to drop out from under her. Seeing the top, Clem scrambled off the last rung of the ladder and onto the overhang. She was about to take a breath, when she heard Sarah scream. Clem spun around to see the ladder begin to topple over, with Sarah still on it.

"No!" Clem rushed back to the edge to grab the ladder, but there wasn't time. The ladder fell out right from under Sarah, who fell forward towards the overhang. The upper half of her body landed on the edge of the overhang, prompting Clem to immediately grab Sarah's hand. Clem tried to pull on Sarah, but her hand was pulled right out of the younger girl's grasp as the weight of the rest of Sarah's body pulled her off the edge of the overhang.

"Sarah!" Clementine could hear walkers gnashing their teeth and Sarah screaming in terror. Clementine felt her whole body go limp as she listened to the horrible scene. She wanted to cry but couldn't, finding herself unable to even breathe. All she could do was listen to Sarah's screams, which seemed to never stop. In fact, they sounded much closer than they should be.

Grasping the lantern and moving to the edge, Clem found Sarah clinging the edge of the overhang, screaming in terror as she struggled to hold on for dear life. Clem immediately grabbed one of Sarah's wrists. The exhausted nine-year-old tried to pull her friend up to the ledge, but the moment she pulled Sarah's hand up she felt the full weight of the older girl's body nearly pulling her off the ledge herself.

"Sarah!" The older girl shrieked in terror as she clung to the ledge with one hand. She flailed her other arm about, narrowly managing to grab the ledge again. "Just hang on!" Clementine set her axe down. Looking at the strap she made, Clem remembered the rope she packed. Looking to her left, Clem spotted a large metal rod that attached the far corners of the overhang to the building.

Clementine tossed off her backpack and unzipped it as fast as she could. She dug through it, desperate to retrieve the rope. Then it dawned on Clem, the rope was in Sarah's pack. Clementine moved over to the edge, finding Sarah staring up at her in desperation.

"Just hold on," instructed Clem as calmly as she could while leaning over the edge of the overhang. "I got an idea." Clem stretched out her hands towards Sarah's pack. She managed to unzip the top of it, but her arms weren't quite long enough to reach the rope inside. "Sarah, pull yourself up."

"I can't!" yelled a panicked Sarah.

"Just try. I just need you to pull yourself close enough for me to get something out of your bag. That's all." Clem watched as Sarah strained to hoist herself onto the ledge. Clem saw the backpack move a little closer with the rest of Sarah, and stuck her hand into it. Clem felt the rope at her fingertips and forced herself to stretch the last inch to grab it. Sarah fell back out of range, yelping in fright as she nearly lost her grip.

"Just a little longer," assured a frantic Clem as she rushed over to the metal rod. She quickly tied one end of the rope to it, tugging the rope as hard as she could to test the knot. Then Clem tossed the rest of the rope over the ledge. "Sarah, grab the rope with one hand and hold onto the ledge with the other."

"Why?" asked a confused a Sarah.

"Just do it!" Clem pulled the rope closer to Sarah's hand, so she wouldn't have to reach far. "Trust me." Sarah took a couple of quick breaths and hastily grabbed the rope, Clem watched as it was pulled taut from Sarah's weight. Clem sat down in the corner, braced her feet against the portion of the metal rod closest to the ledge and grabbed the rope with both hands.

"Sarah, try as hard as you can to pull yourself up," instructed Clem.

"But—"

"I'm going to help you. Just don't stop pulling, no matter what."

"But—"

"On three. Pull as hard as you can as long as you can," dictated Clem. "One, two, three!" Clementine pushed against the metal rod with her feet and pulled on the rope. The fatigued nine-year-old forced her aching arms to their limits. Despite her best efforts, it seemed like she was making no progress. But glancing over to the ledge, Clem saw the top of Sarah's head come into view.

"Don't stop!" yelled Clem, struggling to hold on herself. She gritted her teeth as her hands began to feel sore from grasping the rope so tightly. But Clem kept pulling, finally feeling the rope start to move towards her. Looking at the ledge, Clem watched as the rope pulled Sarah's hand onto the ledge, which Sarah used to try to pull the rest of herself onto the overhang.

"Don't stop!" repeated Clem as she closed her eyes and forced herself to pull harder than she ever thought possible. Clem felt like her arms were about to come out of their sockets when the rope suddenly went slack. Clem fell over backwards. She hastily sat up and saw that Sarah wasn't holding the rope anymore, she was lying on the overhang on her back, gasping for air.

"Sarah," croaked a relieved Clem as she crawl over to her friend. "Thank God." Sweat rolled down Clem's face as she started coughing again, while sweat and tears were rolling down Sarah's face. Both the girls were taking deep panicked breaths as Clem moved over to the exhausted teenager.

She grasped Sarah's shoulders in a desperate attempt to hug the older girl. And when Clem found she hadn't even the strength to pull Sarah up to hug her, Clem pressed her head against the older girl's chest, just so she could be a little closer to her.

Laying her head on Sarah's body, Clem could actually hear the older girl's heartbeat, and found it frightening. It was beating so fast Clementine was frightened it was just going to explode, and listening to Sarah's deep panicked breaths just worried Clem further.

"It's okay," assured a shaken Clem. "You're okay now. It'll be okay." She found her voice wavering as she said that. Too tired to move, Clem just lay on Sarah, listening to her heart. Very gradually, Sarah seemed to calm down. Eventually she sat up, forcing Clem to sit up. The younger girl went to collect the lantern, when the wind picked up and a loud bang sounded right above her.

Clem jumped and Sarah yelped in surprise. Holding the lantern up, Clem saw the source of the noise. There was a large aluminum metal sign hanging from the top of the building that had become partially detached. Clem watched as another gust of wind blew the dangling sign into the side of the building, producing another bang. Reading it, Clem was disappointed to see it said 'Walker's Moon Walks.'

"You were right," reported an exhausted Clementine as she approached the edge. "This isn't Saint Christopher's, or even a church." Looking over the edge, Clem saw at least a dozen walkers idling below. Looking out she could just barely see the body she passed on the way here, and realized why its legs were broken. Whoever that was must have been trapped up here, and eventually jumped off to try to get away.

"What… what do we do now?" Clementine found she had no answer to Sarah's question. "Clementine?"

"I'm thinking," insisted a frustrated Clem. "I'm… I'm so tired. Maybe we could just rest for a while. Maybe they'll clear out and then we can use the rope to get down." Clementine moved away from the edge and lay down.

"You… you're just going to sleep?" asked Sarah.

"I just want to rest for a minute, okay?" insisted Clem in a defensive tone. "Just for a few minutes." Clementine lay down on her side, then found her gun jabbing her in the hip. Clem sat up and removed her pistol from her holster. She switched the safety back and set it down, then lay down herself.

"But…"

"Just rest Sarah," insisted Clem as she grabbed the lantern. "Just for a minute or two." Clementine switched off the lantern and tried to relax, which was difficult thanks to the biting cold and hunger pains. Yet those problems didn't quite compare to just how exhausted Clem felt, both physically and mentally.

She lay there, in the darkness, barely clinging to consciousness for who knows how long. Despite what she told Sarah, Clem really did just want to fall asleep and forget about everything. With so many problems and no solutions in mind, Clem eventually just stopped thinking about them. Maybe someone would just find her, and she wouldn't have to suffer so much to accomplish so little. The idea of just falling asleep and hoping everything was better in the morning seemed like a more appealing option with each passing moment.

Then she heard Sarah whimpering loudly. Clementine groaned and turned on the lantern. Slowly she sat up and looked over to Sarah. She was sitting against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, tears streaming down her face, and a gun pointed at her head.


	71. Perchance to Dream

"Sarah." Clementine looked at the older girl in desperation, horrified by the sight of Sarah holding a gun under her chin. "Please, please don't," begged a tearful Clem. "I'm… I'm sorry I got us stuck up here, but I'll figure something out, I promise." Clem inched closer to Sarah on her knees. "Just please… please don't do this. I know… I know how horrible everything is. But you… you just can't…" Clem watched in horror as Sarah closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. "No!"

Sarah flinched, but the gun didn't fire, the trigger wouldn't move. The safety was on realized Clem. Sarah hastily tried to switch it off just as Clem lunged at her. "Don't!" Clementine tried to wrest the gun out of Sarah's grasp. Clem hit the gun's release as she grappled it, allowing the magazine to fall onto the ground.

But there was still a bullet in the chamber, so Clem pulled with all her might to try to take the gun back, but Sarah was stronger. Clementine watched in horror as the older girl overpowered her and slowly twisted the gun back towards her own head, determined to kill herself.

Looking at Sarah's hands right in front of her, moving the gun into position, Clem saw the solution. She lunged forward and sank her teeth into the older girl's hand. Sarah yelped in pain and released the gun. So suddenly did she release it that Clem fell over backwards, the gun flying out of her grasp.

Turning around, Clementine didn't see the gun anywhere on the ledge, but she did hear something metal hit the pavement below her. Looking back at Sarah, the older girl just sat there with a guilty look on her face, while an angry Clementine stared her down.

"Why?" asked Clem through gritted teeth.

"I… I… I'm sorry. I—"

"Stop saying you're sorry!" screamed Clementine. "Sorry doesn't make things better!"

"I'm sorry… I mean… I—"

"You're not even trying!" accused an infuriated Clementine. "I've been doing everything and you're not even trying!" Sarah turned away from Clem in shame, unable to even look her in the eyes. "Why! Why would you do something so horrible!"

"I… I just want to be with my dad," sobbed Sarah.

"He's dead!"

"No, no, no, no!" Sarah placed her hands over her ears, but Clementine pulled them off.

"He's dead and you know it!" Sarah started crying harder in response to Clem's outburst. "Stop crying!"

"I… I can't," sobbed Sarah.

"Stop it!" Sarah's endless sniveling just infuriated the younger girl, who found herself so sick of that annoying noise she wanted nothing more than to finally stop it. Clem suddenly found herself swinging her arm backwards, then snapping it forward across Sarah's tear strained face. She slapped the older girl with such force it knocked her onto side, where she immediately covered her face with her arms. Clem nursed her throbbing hand while Sarah's hands muffled her cries, which did not stop.

"You think I don't hate this too!" screeched a frenzied Clem. "You think I don't want my mom and dad too! How… how could you be so stupid! How could you be so selfish! How… how could…"

Clementine suddenly found herself breathless. Without warning her whole chest tightened up, and then her legs gave out, causing her to fall forward onto her knees. Sarah momentarily stopped crying as she looked at the small girl lying in front of her, desperately trying not to cry herself.

"I… I can't do this…" whimpered Clem as tears filled her eyes. "I… I just wanna go home. I just want my mom and dad back." Sarah watched as Clem choked back her tears.

"Please… please don't cry Clementine," spoke a deeply disturbed Sarah. "Maybe… maybe Christa will find us and…"

"Christa's not my mom!" yelled a hysterical Clementine. "My mom and dad are dead, and they always were, and I didn't want to believe it!"

"What?" asked a confused Sarah.

"And then Lee died because I didn't listen to him! And Omid died because I did something stupid! And Pete died because I was weak! And your dad died because I was wrong! And now we're going to die, all because I'm a useless little girl!"

Clementine couldn't even muster the strength to remain on her knees. She collapsed onto her side and started bawling uncontrollably. Clem could barely breathe as she cried her heart out. She was sobbing so hard her lungs actually ached in pain, and yet she couldn't stop.

Clem cried harder and harder, nearly suffocating with each breath. Her tiny body racked with pain as she trembled alone in the cold. The thoughts of every horrible thing she ever saw, every terrible thing ever done to her, and every awful mistake she ever made kept flooding into her mind, filling the despondent young girl with more misery and regret than she ever thought possible.

Finding the agony unbearable, Clem suddenly felt the urge to just crawl off the ledge and throw herself to her death. She tried to reach out to pull herself forward, but Clem couldn't move her arms. Fidgeting in place, Clem found something was constricting her whole body. Opening her tear soaked eyes, Clem saw what was holding her in place. It was Sarah.

The older girl had wrapped her arms tightly around the heartbroken nine-year-old. It took Clem a moment to realize she was sitting up now. She was crying so hard Clem didn't even notice Sarah was hugging her until this moment. Looking at the older girl, Clem saw a trail of tears streaming down her face, but she didn't seem to be crying anymore. Clem watched as Sarah looked her directly in the eye.

"I'm so sorry Clementine."


	72. Fears of Being Childish

"I'm so sorry," repeated a tearful Sarah as she cradled a heartbroken Clementine in her arms.

"You… you are?" Clementine looked at the older girl in disbelief. The misery that had so often filled her eyes was now gone, replaced with a look of pity and concern for the same person who had just struck her.

"Christa's not your mom?" Clementine only managed to shake her head slightly in response. "So, your mom—"

"She went away with my dad and then the walkers came," sobbed Clem. "And… and they never came back for me."

"That's… that's horrible," cried an emotional Sarah. "That's, like the saddest thing I've ever heard. I… I feel so bad for you."

"You… you do?" sobbed a shocked Clem. "Even after all those mean things I just said, you still feel bad for me?"

"Of course. Maybe… maybe if I was a better friend, you wouldn't have gotten mad at me."

"What? You're a great friend. You're my best friend."

"I'm your only friend."

"I could have a million friends and they wouldn't be as great as you. You care about me. You're nice to me."

"Anyone can do that."

"Most people don't. Especially not now."

"But, so what? Me being nice won't keep us alive."

"It makes being alive better," said Clem. "You don't yell at me, or beat me, or… or spit on me, and call me horrible names and tell me I'm ugly and stupid and worthless…" Clementine started sobbing on Sarah's shoulder.

"I… I didn't know those things bothered you so much."

"Of course it bothered me," whimpered Clem. "It's like they hated me for being a little girl. I couldn't help it. I tried… I tried so hard, but I was never good enough."

"Good enough for what?" asked Sarah.

"I don't know," sobbed Clem. "I… I'm just no good at anything."

"Clementine…" Sarah moved her hand to Clem's face and gently tilted the small girl's head so she could look the heartbroken nine-year-old in her wet eyes. "Clem, you're the most amazing person I ever met in my entire life."

"No I'm not." Clem turned away from Sarah.

"Yes you are." Sarah tilted Clem's head back towards her. "You're… I don't even know where to start. You're so brave, and smart, and wonderful, and…" Clem watched as Sarah teared up. "And other than my dad, you've done more for me than anyone I've ever known. And you're only nine. And I've only known you like a week. You're… you're incredible."

"If I'm so incredible, why are we stuck up here?"

"That's not your fault."

"Then whose fault is it?"

"It's… it's just the world's. Everything is so wrong now." Sarah looked towards the ledge. "All those lurkers down there, they all used to be people too, and now they're all dead, because the whole world is messed up. Not because you did anything wrong. You make things better, because you're a good person."

"I'm just a little girl," mumbled Clem.

"You're the most amazing little girl in the world."

"That still means I'm just a little girl."

"Why do you think being a little girl is bad?"

"Because, kids don't get to be kids anymore, and people do bad things to little girls," recited a conflicted Clem. "I… I can't be a little girl anymore. I just can't." Clem felt Sarah's warm hands on her face as she gently grasped Clem's head. Looking at the older girl, it seemed almost like she was smiling.

"You can be a little girl in front of me," assured Sarah in a sweet voice. "I wouldn't mind." Clem felt her eyes tear up once more. She threw her arms around Sarah and started crying again. And as she cried, Clem felt one of Sarah's hands gently moving up and down her back. Then her other hand, rubbing what little hair Clem had left on her head. Then Sarah started softly rocking Clem back and forth in her arms.

And as Sarah embraced Clementine, the young girl felt some of the weight of the world lifted off her shoulders. Not all of it, but enough where it no longer felt like she was being crushed by it. After a few moments being tenderly cradled in Sarah's arms, Clementine didn't feel like crying anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Clem eased her grip on Sarah and looked at the older girl's face. The first thing she noticed was the red mark on Sarah's cheek where she had slapped her. Overwhelmed by guilt, Clem leaned in close and kissed Sarah's sore cheek.

"I'm so sorry I hit you," Clem whispered into Sarah's ear. "And I'm sorry about all those horrible things I said."

"I'm sorry I took the gun," whispered Sarah. "And I'm so sorry I tried to shoot myself."

"I'm sorry I didn't listen and got us stuck up here."

"I'm sorry I ran away and just left you behind."

"Forgive me?"

"If you forgive me. No, that's not true, I'd forgive you anyways."

"I've already forgiven you." Clem tightened her grip on Sarah, almost if she was afraid she'd lose her if she ever let go.

"I think I get it now," spoke Sarah in a quiet voice.

"Get what?" asked a weary Clem.

"Why people want to hurt someone when they're upset. It's like, they're in pain, and they have to get it out somehow."

"You never hurt anyone."

"I just tried to kill myself. I'd be dead right now if you hadn't stopped me," sobbed a guilt-stricken Sarah. "And that would have hurt you."

"I think that's just what nice people do when they're in a lot of pain. They hurt themselves because they don't want to hurt others. And if they're in too much pain, they don't think about all the people who care about them," realized Clem.

"I used to know this really nice lady. She never yelled, and was always really nice to me, and talked to me, and just tried to be good to everyone. I always felt better when she was around. Then her son, this boy who was a little older than me and used to be my friend, got bitten.

"She went into the woods with him and his dad, to say goodbye before my friend made sure he didn't come back as a walker. There was a shot, and then later, there was another shot. She never came out of the woods. Just the dad, and he was crying."

"That's… that's horrible. That's… oh God. I was going to do that right in front of you," realized a horrified Sarah. "Clem… I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"The whole time I watched him get sicker, I kept thinking, it could have been me. They were both right behind me when he got bitten. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if had been me instead," admitted Clem. "Maybe she'd still be alive then."

"Then everyone who cared about you would be sad, including that boy." Clem took a deep breath and tightened her grasp on Sarah.

"Do… do you still want to kill yourself?" asked a nervous Clem.

"I… I won't do that again," promised Sarah. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Does that mean if I wasn't here, you would?" Sarah didn't answer. "Please don't," begged a tired Clem. "You're a good person Sarah. The world needs more good people."

"The world needs more little girls too." Clem couldn't stop herself from smirking upon hearing that.

"Well, I guess that means we both need to stay alive," reasoned Clem.

"But how?" asked Sarah. "How are we going to get down?"

"I… I don't know," confessed a fatigued Clem.

"Do you still have your radio?"

"Yeah, why?"

"We could call for help."

"Call who?"

"Someone at Shaffer's. Maybe whoever's left would help us. Maybe they'd even help us find Christa and Nick."

"I don't think they'd help us after what we did."

"Well… then what's the harm in calling? If they don't help us, then we're still stuck up here."

"If they did come for us, I don't think it'd be to help us."

"Mr. Carver and George are dead now," reminded Sarah. "Maybe some of the nicer people would help."

"A lot of other people are dead too," added Clem. "I don't think they're going to be that nice to us after what we did."

"But, we didn't mean for any of that to happen," reasoned Sarah. "We just wanted to leave. We didn't try to hurt anyone."

"I know, but they'd probably still blame us for what happened. Byron looked like he already did when he saw you."

Sarah sighed deeply. "I should have just left that gun behind," she lamented.

"Then you'd be dead. And Bill would still be alive."

"Well, maybe if I had told him we were escaping, maybe he would have come with us."

"Or maybe he would have told Bill. Or maybe Bill would have tried to kill him instead of you."

"Well…" Sarah struggled to think of something to say, then sighed again. "It's like no matter what we do, it's never right."

"I know," concurred a weary Clem.

"Still, Clem, what other choice do we have? We still don't know where Nick and Christa are, or if they're even alive. If someone at Shaffer's doesn't help us, we'll die." Clementine reluctantly pulled free from Sarah's embrace and moved to her backpack. She retrieved the radio and turned it on. A barely audible electric hum signaled it was still working.

"I'm…" Clem paused as she looked at the radio. "I'm sorry Sarah. I'm sorry I can't take care of you… or myself."

"It's okay," assured a sympathetic Sarah. "You shouldn't have to take care of me. People should be taking care of you." Clementine moved her finger to the talk button. "I'm older. If anything, I should be taking care of you." Clementine looked away from the radio and up at Sarah. "But I can't."

"No, you can't," repeated Clementine in a thoughtful tone. "And, I can't take care of you."

"Like I said, it's okay," reassured Sarah. "We just need help."

"Yeah, we do." Clementine took her finger off the talk button and switched the radio off.

"What are you doing? We… we need help."

"Yeah, but not from Shaffer's," asserted Clementine in a confident voice.

"Well, who then? Who's left?"

"We are."

"But‚"

"We could take care of each other," realized Clem.

"You just said—"

"I said I couldn't take care of you," repeated Clem. "But if you helped me, we could get out of this." Clementine moved over to the edge and looked down at the pack of walkers wandering around below. "We're smart, they're not."

"But, what can I do?"

"You've done a lot of things to help me, Sarah," reminded Clem as she turned back to the older girl.

"But—"

"Sarah," spoke Clem in as stern a voice as she could. "I need your help."

"You… you do?" asked Sarah, surprised by Clem's admission.

"I do. I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But we gotta try."

"It's just… what if I mess up?"

"It could be bad," answered Clem in a sober voice. "But it could be okay. I've messed up lots of times, but I'm still alive, usually because people were there to help me."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid you'll need my help, and I'll mess up, and then…" Sarah paused, a disturbed look forming on her face. "And then you'd die, because of me."

"Do… do you hate me for getting us stuck up here?" asked Clem.

"Of course not. Like I said, it's not your fault things are messed up."

"And if something happened to me, it wouldn't be your fault," assured Clem. "And if you don't mess up, maybe we can get out of here."

"I'll… I'll do my best," promised Sarah with as much strength as she could muster in her voice.

"That's all I've been doing this whole time." Clementine moved towards where their backpacks were lying. "I packed a lot of things I found in that store. If we dump them all out, maybe we'll think of something." The pair quickly emptied their backpacks and arranged everything they had in front of them.

"Sorry about losing the gun," said Sarah as she placed the gun's magazine in the pile.

"It's okay, there weren't enough bullets left for all of them anyway," assured Clem. "Oh, make sure you empty your pockets as well," reminded Clem as she removed the compass from her own pocket. "Just in case." Clem watched as Sarah removed a few folded pieces of paper from her pocket.

"What are those?" asked Clem.

"Um, well…" Sarah handed the pieces of paper to Clem. Unfolding one, she found it was her drawing of Kenny, Katjaa and Duck.

"I… I thought you burnt this," stammered a stunned Clem.

"I was going to, but then I saw the note I gave you in your backpack. So I used that instead."

"Why?" asked a surprised Clem.

"It… looked special. I didn't want to burn it."

Clem looked at the drawing again, and found herself smiling at it. "These are the people I was telling you about. The boy and his mom and dad."

"Why did you want me to burn it?" asked Sarah.

"I… I thought I didn't need it. I guess I still don't." Clementine folded the drawing. "But, I want it anyways." Clem placed the drawing in her backpack.

"Does that mean, you wanted the note too?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, but it's okay. We really needed that fire," reasoned Clem. "I guess you can't have everything."

"Well, I did think if you were mad at me for burning the note, I could give you this to make up for it." Clem watched as Sarah removed a somewhat crumpled photograph.

"Where did you get that?" Clem looked down at the photo Sarah took of her back at the cabin. It was creased, faded and stained, but she could still see an image of herself laughing with a wide grin on her face.

"When we were leaving Shaffer's, I saw it lying on the ground," explained Sarah. "I guess no one ever bothered to throw it away."

"Everything that's happened, and you stopped to pick up this and didn't want to burn my drawings," noted an amused Clem.

"I'm sorry. I—"

"I'm glad you did." Clementine unfolded the other drawing.

"Really?" asked Sarah. "Why?"

"Because." Clem looked at her drawing of Lee and smiled. "It's something else that makes being alive better." Clementine carefully placed the drawings and the photo in her backpack, then looked over at everything else they had set out.

"We can do this," insisted Clem with as much confidence as she could summon. "We just have to think."


	73. Nobler to Suffer the Slings and Arrows

Clementine eyed everything she and Sarah had collected. They had two rain coats, four bowls, two canteens, a machete, a small axe, a knife, scissors, tin snips, a fire starting tool, the radio, the gun's magazine, and the rope still tied to the overhang. Clem kept looking for something that could be the answer, but she couldn't think of anything. Looking at Sarah, she saw the older girl seemed no closer to a solution.

"If only it hadn't rained," lamented Sarah. "Then we'd still smell like the lurkers and could just climb down."

"Of if I had just found another one to use before we got stuck up here," said Clem.

"Well, it's not like we can get one now."

Clementine looked over at the rope tied to the overhang. "Maybe we can." Clem moved to the edge of the overhang. She pulled up the length of the rope, laid it out, then used the tin snips to cut off a large section of it.

"What are you doing?" asked Sarah.

"It'll be like fishing," explained Clem as she tied the end of the shortened rope into a loop. "Christa showed me how to make a lasso. You pull on the rope, and it'll tighten around whatever's inside the loop."

"You're going to try to lasso a lurker?"

"Sorta. If I can just get one to grab it, maybe we can pull it up and use it to smell like them again," reasoned Clem as she dropped the lasso off the ledge. It hung at about chest height for most of the walkers. Clem tugged on the rope, swinging it towards a few clueless corpses. "Come on, grab it."

The lasso bumped off one walker and into another, neither of which seemed to notice. They kept stumbling about, waiting for something that interested them. Clem tried guiding the loop onto one of the walkers, but it was hard to see them well with just the lantern lighting the area.

"They're not going for it," realized an annoyed Clem.

"It's not alive, or making any noise," observed Sarah. "So they don't care about it."

"We need some kind of bait."

"What could we use for bait?"

"Well, I'm alive. Maybe I could climb down and—"

"That's crazy."

"We gotta do something."

"But not that, we want to bring one up so we don't have to go down there yet."

"Well how else are we going to get them to go for it?"

Sarah thought about Clem's question, then looked at the knife on Clem's hip. "Maybe we could just give them a little bit of us."

"Oh." Clem unsheathed her knife and moved it to her wrist.

"Not there." Sarah grabbed Clem's wrist. "There's a lot of veins there."

"Where then?"

"Well, I don't think there's anything important in your fingers or toes. And if you do your toe, the shoe could cover up the cut."

"That's a good idea." Clem set the knife down and moved to untie her shoe, but Sarah put her hand over the laces.

"Um, why don't you use my toe?" suggested a nervous Sarah.

"I can do it," insisted Clem.

"You're already sick," said Sarah. "And you seem a lot more tired than me too." Clem looked at Sarah, unable to ignore the concern in her eyes.

"You're sure you want to do it?" Sarah nodded. She untied her shoe and slipped her sock off while Clem pulled the rope up. Clem set the rope aside and picked up the knife. She moved towards Sarah's barefoot, noticing the nervous look on the older girl's face.

"Just… just do it," insisted Sarah, trying to sound brave.

"Not yet." Clem picked up the tin snips, then Sarah's sock.

"What are you doing?" Clem snipped off a section at the top of the sock, then cut the loop, turning it into a strip of cotton.

"Getting a bandage ready." Clem set the cut up strip near Sarah's foot, then moved the lasso under it. "I'll… I'll try to be quick," assured Clem as she drew her knife.

"Just, don't cut too deep," warned a nervous Sarah.

"I won't." Clem grabbed hold of Sarah's foot and moved in close. "Um, which toe should I use?"

"I don't know, the littlest one?" suggested Sarah. "It's smaller, so, there's less to hurt, I guess." Clem inched in close and pointed the knife at Sarah's smallest toe.

"Don't watch," warned Clem. "It's easier if you don't." Sarah closed her eyes. "Ready?" Sarah nodded. Clem took a breath and stabbed Sarah's toe. The older girl let out a cry of pain as Clem pulled the knife out. "Sorry."

"It's okay," assured a pained Sarah. Clementine picked up the loop of the rope and started rubbing it over the cut, smearing blood onto it. "Are you almost done?"

"I want to be sure we got enough," informed a penitent Clem. "I don't want to have to do this more than once."

"Just… just take as long you need," insisted Sarah, trying not to sound hurt. Clem collected more blood on the end of the lasso, then set it down. She picked up the piece she cut from the sock and wrapped it firmly around Sarah's bleeding toe before tying a knot as tightly as she could.

"Okay, that should be enough." Sarah put her sock and shoe back on while Clem took hold of the lasso. "Now, we need to pull up on it as soon as one of them grabs it, so we can tighten the lasso."

"Okay." Sarah sat down and grabbed hold of the rope near where it was tied to the overhang. "Ready." Clem dropped the rope off the ledge. Some of the walkers started groaning louder and the rope suddenly went taut. "Now!" Sarah pulled on the rope as hard as she could. Clem watched the rope pull one of the walker's arms up over its head.

"It's too heavy," groaned Sarah as she pulled as hard as she could. Clem ran to her side and grabbed the rope, pulling on it as hard as she could. The pair managed to pull the rope in a few inches, before the strain became too much and they had to let go. "We just can't lift it."

"Well, maybe we don't have too," realized Clem. "If we pull hard enough, maybe we can rip its arm off. All we need is a piece of him." Sarah took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the rope. Clementine coughed a couple of times, then grabbed it herself. "On three. One, two, three!" The pair yanked on the rope with everything they had.

"Okay, stop!" Sarah eased up on the rope. "Again. One, two, three!" The pair pulled on the rope and it almost immediately went slack. Clem eagerly started pulling the line in and found her catch; a rotted arm severed at the elbow.

"Ugh." Clem grimaced and turned away. "It definitely smells like them." Clem picked up her knife and leaned in close to the arm, but the smell made her recoil in disgust.

"Do you want me to do it?" asked Sarah.

"Could you?" asked a sickened Clem.

"Yeah. The smell might be making you feel sicker." Sarah moved over to Clem. "You should rest a little more."

"Thanks Sarah." Clem handed the knife to Sarah, who looked down on the rotted arm in disgust. She grimaced as she sliced into it, carving a piece of rotted meat off the bone. Sarah reluctantly picked it up and looked at Clementine.

"Go ahead," consented a reluctant Clem. "It's the only way." Sarah moved in to smear Clem, but then she looked over at the raincoats.

"What about those?" asked Sarah. "Couldn't we just put this stuff on them, and wear the raincoats over our clothes?"

"Um, yeah, that's a great idea." Clem breathed easier knowing that she wouldn't have to touch the walker flesh directly again. Sarah unfolded one of the raincoats and started smearing the rotted flesh up and down the back of the coat, onto the hood, and the backs of the sleeves.

The chunk of meat was nearly gone, so Sarah chopped another slice off the arm and smeared the front of the coat next. Then used a few more slices of flesh to coat the other rain slicker. Looking at them, Sarah took a breath and set the knife down.

"That's good, right?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, it should be."

"Now all we have to do is put them on and climb down." Clem held the lantern over the ledge and saw the many walkers right below them. "I'd feel a lot better if there weren't so many near the rope."

"Yeah, if we make any noise climbing down the rope, they'd hear us and attack, wouldn't they?" Clem coughed a couple of times, then nodded. She looked back to her equipment and picked up one of the canteens.

"Maybe we could build a noise maker." Clem looked at everything else but didn't see anything that would make much noise inside the canteen.

"There's got to be something."

"What about this?" Sarah picked up the magazine. "We could put some bullets in it. That should make plenty of noise."

"We don't have many left," noted Clem.

"If we don't get down, they're not going to be much use." Clem took the magazine. She opened the canteen, slipped a bullet inside, closed the lid and shook the canteen. It made an annoying noise, but not nearly as consistently as the ones they made back at Shaffer's. Clem moved to the edge and shook the canteen. Looking down, she saw a couple of walkers respond to the noise, but most of them didn't.

"It probably needs at least one more," suggested Sarah.

"Yeah." Clem slipped another bullet in the canteen and shook it around. The bullets constantly banged into each other, as well as the sides of the container, making a lot of noise. Clem watched as most of the walkers started reaching up towards her.

"Okay, go shake it over the other side," instructed Clem as she handed the canteen to Sarah. The older girl nodded and moved to the other side of the overhang, where she started shaking the canteen as hard as she could. Clem watched as the walkers migrated towards the noise. They filed in under the overhang, but there were so many that a few in the back were still close to the rope.

"If we could just get them to go a little further." Clem picked up the lantern and moved over to the other side of the overhang where Sarah was. Looking at the side of the building, Clem spotted a light fixture jutting out. She went back and grabbed the leftover rope. She cut another piece off with the tin snips, then tied that piece of rope to the canteen.

"If I can just get it over that light, we could shake it from far away, and move them over there." Clementine readied herself to throw the canteen.

"Wait, you should tie the other end of the rope off," suggested Sarah. "In case you miss and have to pull it back up."

"Right." Clementine moved over to the metal rod that connected the overhang's other far corner to the building. She tied the rope off and picked up the canteen. She was about to throw it, but then looked to Sarah. "You should do it."

"Why me?"

"Because, you're stronger than me. You can throw it further." Clementine handed the canteen off to Sarah, then picked up the lantern and held it out so the older girl could see the light fixture. Sarah gripped the canteen like a football, moved it back and forth a few times, then hurled it at the light fixture. The canteen sailed through the air and over the light, the rope catching the fixture as it fell back towards the ground. "Good throw." Clementine tugged on the rope a few times, shaking the canteen. She watched as some of the walkers marched forward.

"Okay, let's get ready." Clementine and Sarah repacked their bags. They slipped on their raincoats first, Sarah put the machete on her back, then the girls put their backpacks on. Clem coughed a few times, then picked up the lantern. "You shake the noisemaker. I'll go down first, and if it's safe, I'll turn the lantern off for a second, then turn it back on."

"Got it." Sarah started shaking the noise maker while Clem moved to the other rope. She used her knife to cut off the lasso tied to the severed arm. Trying to put her knife away, Clem discovered having the raincoat on meant an added step of sliding it into the coat first before finding the sheath. Not satisfied with that, Clem used to knife to cut a slit in the raincoat above the sheath. With a little effort, she slipped the knife through the slit and into the sheath.

Clem then clipped the lantern to a belt loop on the front of her pants and tossed the rope down. She didn't see any more walkers nearby, but still took great care in descending. Clem reached the end of the rope and fell the last few feet to the ground. Looking around, Clem didn't see any nearby walkers, so she grabbed the switch on the lantern. She flicked it off, waited a few seconds, then switched it back on.

Shortly after turning the light back on, Clem heard the canteen go silent, which meant Sarah was on her way. As Clem waited, she noticed her gun lying on the ground a few feet away. She picked it up and removed the magazine from her pocket. It had three bullets left, and the gun had one, making four.

She reloaded the gun, put the safety back on, then holstered it. Clem then took her knife and cut another slit on the other side of the raincoat so she could draw her gun more easily. Putting her knife away, Clem heard Sarah landing on the pavement next to her. Clem looked over at the older girl and smiled.

"You did it," said Sarah in an excited but still hushed voice.

"We did it." The pair smiled at each other, then started walking. They found their way back to the highway and Clem used her compass to confirm they were still heading north. Before they started walking, Clem unhooked the lantern from her belt and moved over to Sarah.

"Kneel down, I've got an idea." Sarah did as instructed. Clem slid the lantern's handle over the machete hilt sticking up from Sarah's back, allowing it to hang freely. "Now you won't have to hold it all the time." Sarah stood up and turned back to the road. Clem looked on at the black asphalt stretched out in front of her and sighed.


	74. Nostalgia

Clementine kept marching forward, too tired to maintain anything other than a brisk walk at most. Looking over at Sarah, she saw that even the older girl was starting to waver, clearly exhausted from today's events. It was still cloudy out, which meant it was still pitch black, the girls' only source of light the lantern on Sarah's back.

Looking around, it didn't seem like they were missing much. This area of the highway was almost entirely bordered by forest. The road started tilting northwest, making Clem wonder if they had gone too far and already past Saint Christopher's. There were still cars lining the sides of the road, which meant at the very least Shaffer's had been through here before.

Feeling the wind pick up again, Clementine shuddered. The raincoat didn't provide much warmth, and even though the smell was a little more distant than when Clem smeared her clothes, it was still there, making her feel sick. Longing for comfort, Clem moved in close to Sarah and grabbed her hand.

"My hands are dirty," warned Sarah. "From the—"

"I don't care." Clem could feel the filth from the walker on Sarah's hand, but she also felt Sarah's soft warm skin and tightened her grasp. Then Clem felt Sarah's fingers wrapping around her own hand, which made her feel a tiny bit better. "I'm so glad I found you," professed an emotional Clementine.

"Me too," whispered Sarah. "But, what do we do if we don't find Nick and Christa?"

"We'll find them," insisted Clem. "We just got to get to Saint Christopher's."

"But what if we don't find it?"

"I don't know," confessed Clem in a weak voice.

"I… I'm sorry," spoke Sarah. "I shouldn't ask you things like that."

"It's not that. I just don't know. I don't know what to do."

"Well… we'll just keep going for now," reasoned Sarah. "We're not even there yet, so we don't need to think about that right now."

"Yeah, let's just not think about it." Clem walked along with Sarah in the dark. She found the eerie silence unnerving, and was glad when Sarah said something.

"Clem, can I ask something, about what you said before?"

"What did I say?"

"About your parents." Clem frowned. "If you don't want to talk about it I—"

"It's okay," assured Clem. "Just ask."

"I was just wondering, if Christa's not your mom, who is she?"

"Just some woman I met."

"That's it? She wasn't like, an aunt, or a friend, or—"

"I didn't meet her and Omid until after the walkers."

"Omid wasn't your dad, he was Christa's husband?"

"Yeah. Well, boyfriend, but close enough. You would have liked him. He was really nice, and really really funny. And he liked kids, a lot."

"And, he and Christa have been taking care of you this whole time?"

"No, not the whole time," recounted a saddened Clem. "My parents… they went on vacation to Savannah and left me at home with my babysitter Sandra, and that's when everything changed. I was just getting ready for bed, when I heard Sandra screaming. I went downstairs, and there was all this blood in the kitchen, and Sandra was lying on the ground, or I thought she was."

"She… she was a lurker," concluded Sarah.

"I didn't understand what was wrong with her. She kept chasing after me and I kept telling her to stop, but she wouldn't. Eventually I ran out into the backyard and went up to my treehouse. I pulled up the ladder, but she was still there, so I just stayed up there, all night, alone…"

"I'm sorry Clem."

"I couldn't sleep. I was so scared and confused and I didn't understand what was going on, but I was too afraid to come down, and…" Clem paused as she recalled that night. "The whole time I just wanted my mom and dad to come home." Clem tightened her grip on Sarah's hand.

"The next morning I was hungry, so I went back into the house to get food, and that's when I found the radio my mom used when I talked to her on nights when she couldn't come home, or when my mom and dad just weren't ready for bed. She had left it behind because Savannah was too far away for it to work. I went back to my room to get my radio, thinking if they came back they could talk to me on it."

"And that's the radio with the stickers on it?" asked Sarah.

"It didn't have stickers then, but yeah. When I was getting it out of my room, Sandra came back into the house, so I had to run back outside. I trapped her inside, but I didn't know what else to do.

"I heard gunshots at one point, so I went outside, and there was someone shooting at a walker. I thought maybe he could help me, but he didn't know you had to shoot them in the head and he ran out of bullets, then the walker started eating him. I had never seen something so horrible before that, so I just ran back to my treehouse to get away from it.

"Eventually, somebody came into my yard. I was going to ask him for help, but then he started banging on my house's backdoor, yelling about our TV or something. I think he wanted to rob us. I was afraid of what he would do to me if he found me, so I just stayed in the treehouse.

"Some walkers chased him off, and I was alone again. I went and got a hammer from the garage, in case he came back, even though, I don't think I could actually hurt anyone with it, at least not then. I spent another night in the tree house and all night I'd hear gunshots or people screaming, and every time I thought it was over, I'd hear more."

"That's… that's so awful Clem," commented a tearful Sarah. "Did Christa find you after that?"

"No, I didn't meet her until months later."

"Months? You were alone for months?"

"No. The next day, I met Lee."

"Who's Lee?"

"Remember when I told you I knew a man who killed someone before people came back from the dead and how he took care of me?" Sarah nodded. "He was that man. His name was Lee, and… I miss him."

"Was he the person in the other drawing?"

Clementine nodded. "I drew that after he buried someone."

"Who?"

"I'm… not sure. Whoever it was, he wasn't much bigger than me. I think he had been dead for a while though."

"Why'd he bury him then?"

"It was just sad," recounted a melancholic Clementine. "So he buried him."

"That was nice of him," commented a sentimental Sarah. "How did you meet him?"

"The next morning, after I got my radio, I heard another gunshot, but it was in the woods behind my house. I didn't really know what else to do, so I snuck through a loose board in our fence to see what happened. I saw a man next to a crashed car and he saw me and started calling for help, and I got scared. I ran back to my yard and hid in the treehouse again.

"He came into my yard and started calling for help. I was scared, so I didn't say anything. I thought about dropping the hammer on him, because I was afraid he was like the last guy. But while I was watching the kitchen from the treehouse, I thought I saw my dad pass by the window, so I tried calling him on the radio. My dad didn't answer, but Lee did."

"And, he took care of you?"

"If he hadn't come when he did, I don't know what I would have done. My parents were never coming back, and I didn't know what to do or where to go. I know you think I'm really brave, but if he hadn't helped me, I never would have made it away from home. He just came out of nowhere, took me with him, and protected me and cared for me, even though he didn't even know me."

"Like, you did for me," remarked Sarah.

"He would have done a much better job than me," remarked a very weary Clementine.

"You're doing a great job Clem," assured a sincere Sarah.

"Maybe, but I'd feel better if he was here. And, I bet you would too."

"What happened to him?" Sarah felt her arm tugging on Clem's. Looking back she saw the younger girl, standing in the road, on the verge of tears. "Clem?"

"I… I killed him." Sarah looked at a sniveling Clementine, trying to fight back her tears.

"Clem…" Something small and wet landed on Sarah's hand. "Is it raining?" Listening closely, Clem and Sarah could hear raindrops hitting the pavement.

"Not again," sighed Clem.

"Well, at least we got rain coats now," reasoned Sarah.

"The rain will wash off the walker smell, again." Sarah took a few steps over to the edge of the road. Looking past the girl, Clem could see she was studying a car parked on the side of the road.

"Maybe we could rest in there, at least until it stops raining?" suggested Sarah.

"I could use some rest." The pair approached the car. Sarah removed the lantern from her back while Clem pulled her gun. Clem pulled open the driver side door and found nothing of interest. She opened the passenger door next, then the cargo door that led into the back. Finding nothing, the pair climbed inside.

"I think these come down," commented Sarah as she fiddled with something sticking out of the top of the back seats. Pulling on a release, Clem watched as Sarah pushed the back seats down, giving both of them more room. Clem removed her backpack and axe. Then took off the raincoat.

"I'll just put these in the front seat," commented Sarah as she took off her raincoat. "That way we don't have to smell them." Sarah tossed the raincoats into the front, then closed the doors Clem had opened. Looking out the cargo door, Clem saw the rain starting to pick up. She rooted through her and Sarah's backpacks, locating the bowls and the remaining canteen. As she set out some bowls, Clem noticed Sarah holding out her hands to catch water.

"We got stuff to collect water," said Clem.

"I know," said Sarah. "I just want to wash my hands." Realizing her hands were probably filthy too, Clem stuck her arms out past the opened cargo door. The pair let the rain wet their hands, then wiped them on the car's upholstery. Not exactly an ideal solution, Clem thought, but probably better than using their clothes, which were filthy.

After setting out the other bowls and the canteen, Clem and Sarah each drank from one of the partially filled bowls. Sarah still struggled to swallow, but she endured long enough to drink her portion of water. Setting the bowls back out, Clem closed the cargo door while Sarah moved their stuff onto the back seat floor so they could lie down. Clem started rubbing her arms, trying to get warm, when Sarah started unzipping her jacket.

"You should put this on," insisted Sarah.

"Are you sure?" asked Clem. "You'll be cold then."

"You've been cold this whole time. I think I'll be okay for a little while." Sarah placed her jacket on Clem's shoulders. Clem stuck her arms into the oversized sleeves, then zipped up the front. "You should rest for a while," suggested Sarah as she took her shoes off.

"We can't rest too long. The herd is still out there."

"I know, but we might as well rest as long as we're waiting on the rain to let up."

"Yeah, that's a good idea." Clementine removed her shoes.

"And, we should huddle together to stay warm, like Pete—" Sarah was interrupted by Clementine suddenly embracing her. The older girl seemed a little embarrassed by the sudden display of affection, but then took off her glasses and put an arm around Clementine. She carefully lay down, with the smaller girl in her grasp, then turned off the lantern. The pair lay intertwined in the dark, the sound of a light rain soothing their nerves.


	75. Three Little Words

"Clementine?" whispered Sarah.

"Yeah?" answered Clementine.

"What did you mean, when you said you killed Lee?" Clem tensed up. "I'm sorry. I—"

"He was bitten," answered a teary Clem. "And I didn't want him to turn into a walker, and he told me there was only one way to stop that from happening. So…" Clem bit her lip, trying not to cry. "So I shot him."

"Oh Clem," spoke a saddened Sarah. "I'm so sorry." Clem tried to stifle her tears as she thought back to that horrible day. "It… it was like my dad. Wasn't it? He… he was already dead. Even if he got up, those bites would have killed him." Clem listened to Sarah weeping and felt like crying herself.

"That's why you shot him, isn't it?" asked a sniveling Sarah.

"I'm so sorry Sarah," spoke an emotional Clem. "I didn't want to. But—"

"But we had to go, and you knew I wasn't going to leave him…" Clem felt her eyes tearing up as she listened to Sarah whimper. "So you had to, because I didn't want to believe it, and we were going to die because of me, because I didn't want to leave my dad, even though—" Clementine started crying loudly, startling Sarah.

"I'm sorry, I'll—"

"It was my parents," cried Clementine.

"What?"

"That mistake I made, because I trusted someone who said he had something I needed?" reminded Clem. "It was my parents. He said he found my parents."

"Huh? Who did?"

"The man I talked to on my radio." Clementine felt Sarah's hand moving up and down her back as she tried to stop crying.

"It's okay," assured Sarah in a calm voice. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Do… do you not want me to talk about it?"

"I just want whatever makes you feel better. Do you want to talk?" Thinking about Sarah's question, Clem realized they were both alone, lost in the dark, cold and hungry, without any idea if they'd ever find anyone ever again. It dawned on the young girl she might never get another chance to talk about this again.

"I… I thought my radio was broken, but I kept it anyway, because I liked to pretend I was still talking to my mom and dad on it. But when I put new batteries in it, it started working again. So I thought, maybe I could use it to find my mom and dad. If they found another radio, they'd know to try to call me on it, and one night, someone answered me.

"I told him about how my parents went away to Savannah, and he said he felt bad for me. We kept talking, and I told him about how scared I was, and the bad things I saw, and he kept saying how terrible it was for a little girl like me to have to go through this.

"He said he would be my secret friend. Someone I could tell anything to, and he would never tell anyone else no matter what. One day, he told me he was going to Savannah to find my parents. And not long after that, we found a train that could take us to Savannah too."

"A train?" asked Sarah. "It still worked?"

"Yeah, I know. It took us right to where my parents were, and when I told my friend about it, he said he was already there, and that he was going to start looking for them before we got there, and I told him to start at the hotel they were staying at. It felt like a dream come true." Clementine started sniveling. "But when we got there. Everything went wrong.

"Lee wouldn't give me my radio back, because he knew my friend wasn't actually a friend, but I didn't want to believe them. Christa told me too, and I didn't believe her either. We went to the only place in Savannah that was supposed to still have people left, and everyone there was already dead. But I kept telling myself they had to be somewhere in Savannah, but Lee said there just wasn't enough time to look for them. So I…" Clem drifted off.

"Go ahead, it's okay," assured Sarah.

"I… I waited for Lee to fall asleep, and then I took my radio back. When I called my friend, he told me he already found my parents, and said he tried to tell me yesterday, and when I told him Lee wouldn't let me have my radio, he said it must be because he doesn't want me to find my mom and dad, because he just wants to keep me to himself and…" Clementine started choking up.

"And I believed him. Lee always took care of me, but I believed someone I never met before because I was stupid."

"You're not stupid Clementine. You just wanted your mom and dad back."

"But they were gone, and I should have known better," insisted a guilt-stricken Clem. "And because I didn't, that man took me away from Lee, and he got bitten trying to save me from him. It's my fault he died. I killed him, after he saved my life like a hundred times."

"How'd he get bitten?"

"I don't know, I just know he wasn't bitten before I left."

"So, you went to meet this man?"

"I met him in the yard of the house we were all staying in."

"And then you left with him?"

"No, I asked him about my parents first, and he said they were waiting for me at the Marsh House. Then I asked him how did he know they were my parents when I never told him their names or what they looked like, and when he didn't answer right away, I knew he was lying to me."

"So, what did he do when you told him he was lying?"

"I didn't tell him that, I was afraid too. I just told him I wanted to say goodbye to everyone before I left, so I could get back in the house. But, he wouldn't let me."

"What did he do?"

"He grabbed me, and covered my mouth so I couldn't scream. I tried to get away, but he was stronger than me."

"What… what did he do to you?"

"He locked me in a room, and started asking me weird questions, like what I liked to eat, and when my birthday was, and what my favorite color was."

"Why?"

"I don't know, he was crazy. He said the jacket I was wearing belonged to his son, and that I could keep it if I stayed with him. I said I just wanted to leave, but he said I couldn't because it was too dangerous. I used his radio to tell Lee where I was, and he locked me in a bathroom. Lee did find me, but by then he was already dying, because of me."

"I… I don't get it. Why do you think it's your fault Lee died?"

"If I never talked to that man, Lee would still be alive right now," explained a tearful Clem. "None of that stuff ever would have happened."

"But, you didn't want to go with that man, and it sounds like you did everything you could to get away. He made you come with him."

"But I shouldn't have talked to him to begin with."

"Why not?"

"I should have known better than think someone would just help me for no reason."

"But, isn't that what Lee did?"

"He…" Clem found herself speechless.

"And isn't that what Christa has been doing?"

"And it's what Omid did," added Clem. "And… what you did."

"People are supposed to take care of kids," explained Sarah. "It's not stupid to think that people would want to help you."

"But not everyone does," noted a bitter Clementine.

"Yeah, that's true," conceded Sarah. "But that makes them wrong, not you."

"I still shouldn't haven't trusted that man though. I should have trusted Lee and Christa when they tried to warn me about him."

"Well, he never should have lied to you in the first place. I'm so sorry you didn't find your mom and dad Clem."

"I did find them," spoke a somber Clem.

"So, that man wasn't lying?"

"He was lying, but I found them anyway," explained a weeping Clem. "They were walkers. Right outside the hotel they were staying at. They probably died right after everything went wrong. They're probably part of the herd that's behind us right now."

"Oh God. Clem…"

"I just wanted to see them one more time, but not like that," sobbed Clementine.

"I just wanted to tell my dad I loved him one more time," wept Sarah. "He tried to hug me, but I was afraid of him. But… I still loved him."

"The day my mom and dad left for their vacation, my mom told me she loved me, and I didn't say I loved her back because I was mad at her that day, because I wanted to come with them on vacation and I didn't understand why I couldn't," bawled Clementine.

"I… I should have told her I loved her. I… I should have told Lee I loved him too. He did everything for me and I never even told him I loved him. I didn't tell Omid either, or Christa. I'll probably never even get another chance to tell her that—"

"Clementine," whispered Sarah in a quiet voice.

"Yeah?" answered a miserable Clementine.

"I love you."

"Wuh… what?" muttered a stunned Clem.

"I love you." This was the first time Clementine could remember someone saying this to her since the world changed, and it was coming from someone she had only known for a couple of weeks.

"I… I… I love you too." Clementine tightened her hold on Sarah, and Sarah responded in kind. So closely entwined with each other now that Clementine couldn't even feel the cold air anymore, just the warmth of Sarah's body. And as she shut her eyes, the doubt and fear that had so often loomed over Clem finally seemed to evaporate from her mind, leaving the small girl with a fleeting moment of peace before drifting off to sleep.


	76. Sweet Sorrow

Clementine opened her eyes and immediately needed to cough. Her head felt heavy, she couldn't breathe through her nose and she felt even more tired than before she went to sleep. Looking around, it was still dark, but there seemed to be enough light to see now. Searching the car's interior, Clem noticed something was missing.

"Sarah?" croaked a sickly Clem. "Sarah!" Clementine scampered towards the front seat. She found her raincoat, but not Sarah's. Looking down on the floor she noticed Sarah's backpack was gone too. Clem hastily opened the door and exited the car. In such a hurry was she that she tripped as she moved out the door and hit the road in a painful manner.

"Clementine!" Looking up, Clem saw as someone approached. Her vision was blurred, making it difficult to tell who it was, but as they grew closer it became obvious it was Sarah, garbed in her raincoat. "Clem, are you okay?" asked Sarah as she helped Clem off the ground.

"I thought you were gone," explained Clementine in a weak voice as she sat down.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," apologized Sarah. "It stopped raining and you were sleeping, so I thought I'd look around while I let you rest."

"That's dangerous," warned Clem.

"Everything's dangerous," commented a weary Sarah

"Yeah, but you gotta be smart about it. It's too dark to just go looking around."

"No, it's not cloudy anymore, and it's like a full moon tonight. You can see everything real easy now. Go head, look." Clementine turned her head. The moonlight did indeed illuminate the highway, but Clem had trouble focusing on anything more than a few feet away.

"I… I can't see too well," confessed Clem.

"What?" Clem watched Sarah draw closer. "You don't look good."

"I don't feel good." Clem felt Sarah's hand on her forehead.

"You're burning up," reported an alarmed Sarah.

"I think my nose is stuffed up." Sarah looked around, then turned back to Clem.

"Let me use your knife."

"Why?" asked a worried Clem.

"I just need to borrow it for a second." Clem pulled her knife out of the sheath and handed it to Sarah. Clem watched as Sarah undid her raincoat and used the knife to cut a piece of fabric off the bottom of her shirt.

"Here, blow your nose," instructed Sarah as she handed Clem the fabric. Clem took a breath and blew her nose as hard as she could. As she did, Sarah picked up a couple of the bowls lying by the back of the car. "Here, drink some water too."

Clem drank, slightly easing the pain in her throat. She coughed a few times, then spit, clearing up a little congestion. Turning back, Clem watched as Sarah was using the knife to cut off more of her shirt.

"What are you doing?" Clem watched as Sarah folded the strip of fabric over, then dipped it in the second bowl. She took the wet strip and pressed it against Clem's forehead. "You should lie down and rest."

"No, we can't rest any longer," insisted Clem.

"But—"

"You said you could see everything, can you see the herd?"

"Well, no…"

"But?"

"I… I can hear them."

Clem listened closely and in the distance she could hear the faint sound of hundreds of shuffling feet. "We got to get to Saint Christopher's before they do."

"We've got the raincoats, and it doesn't look like it's going to rain again. So—"

"We still don't have any food, and I feel even sicker now than before I fell asleep," argued Clem. "If we wait, things are just going to get worse."

Sarah sighed. "Okay." Clementine started unzipping Sarah's jacket. "Just keep it for now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." The girls drank the remaining water in the bowls, then packed them and the now filled canteen. Clem donned her raincoat and put on her pack, but Sarah offered to carry her axe to ease the burden. Clem pressed the wet cloth to her head with one hand and held Sarah with the other.

"If you need to stop, just say so," said Sarah.

"We just need to get to Saint Christopher's already," insisted a woozy Clementine. "It can't be much further, and now we can see."

"All right, but if you start to feel worse—"

"I'll let you know." Clem lurched forward, leaning on Sarah for support and managing only a tepid pace as she did. She tried looking around as they walked, hoping to take advantage of the now present moonlight, but her vision was so poor she could only see a blur of trees lining the road.

Pressing forward was agonizing for Clem. Even with Sarah's support, she found it difficult to keep walking. Her whole body felt heavy, as if something was weighing her down, and with each passing step that weight seemed to increase, and there seemed to be no end in sight for them. Clem watched one blurry object after another pass her by, hoping that eventually one of them would be Saint Christopher's, but they weren't

The sickly girl staggered on almost in a trance, walking only out of instinct instead of any conscious action. Clementine could hear Sarah occasionally say something to her, but she couldn't find the energy to respond. Finally, she had a hard time even hearing Sarah, finding it took most of her energy to just keep walking, until eventually, she found she didn't have the strength for even that.

"Clementine!" Clem could barely hear Sarah say as she collapsed onto the asphalt. Clem lay there, unable to summon the will to even turn over. She wanted nothing more than to just go back to sleep, but then she felt something roll her onto her back. Clem could just barely make out Sarah's face right above her.

"Clementine, what's wrong?"

"I… I don't think I can walk anymore," croaked a sickly Clem.

"You… you have to," insisted Sarah.

"I can't."

"Just… just stand up," pleaded a desperate Sarah. "You can do that, it's not hard. Just stand up." Clementine rolled onto her side and strained to pull herself into a stand. She managed to get onto her knees, but the moment she tried to stand, she felt her leg give out and fell back onto the pavement.

"I can't do it," whimpered Clementine. "I'm sorry Sarah."

"I… I wish my dad was here," sobbed Sarah. "He would know what's wrong."

"Maybe…" A horrifying thought entered Clementine's mind. "Maybe I'm bitten."

"No! That's not possible," insisted a panicked Sarah. "When? How?"

"I don't know. Maybe it happened and I didn't notice." Clem rolled onto her back and saw Sarah kneeling over her. "Check."

"What?"

"See if you can find a bite of me," insisted Clem. "Maybe it was a really little one." Sarah sighed, then helped to remove Clem's backpack, raincoat and jacket. Sarah turned on the lantern, then started scanning Clem for any signs of a bite. Clem lay there as Sarah examined her arms, pulled up her shirt, took off her shoes, and eventually her hat.

"I don't see anything," insisted Sarah. "No bites. No marks. Not even any blood."

"You're sure?"

"Yes Clem. Does anywhere on your body hurt?"

"My legs are sore, and my throat."

"You probably just have a cold or something. You were coughing before we even left, that means it has to be a cold and not because of a bite."

"When we were leaving, I tried to cover my mouth when I coughed, and that gross stuff was still on my hands, and I threw up," recalled Clem. "Maybe… maybe some if it got in my mouth, and that's killing me, like how a bite does."

"Can… can that happen?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"I… I don't know," answered Clem. "Maybe that's why nobody ever covers themselves in that stuff. Maybe that's more dangerous."

"No that can't be it. You did it before and you were fine, right? I did it, I'm okay. You just have a cold, or maybe the flu. That's it."

"I don't ever remember a cold feeling this bad before."

"That's because you always rest when you have a cold," rationalized Sarah. "But you can't do that now. You're hungry and tired, and that makes everything worse."

"It doesn't matter…"

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?"

"Either way, I can't keep going." Sarah looked down at Clem, tears in her eyes. She reached down, sat Clem up and slipped her jacket back on the small girl. Then she grabbed the raincoat and slipped it on over the jacket.

"What… what are you doing?" Sarah put Clem's hat and shoes back on, then set the younger girl's backpack in her lap. "Sarah, what—" Clem suddenly felt Sarah's arms under her knees and beside her back. Slowly Clem felt herself being hoisted into the air while Sarah groaned in pain.

"Sarah…"

"Just rest," insisted Sarah. "I'll just carry you for a while. You're not that heavy." Despite Sarah's assertion, her strained tone and occasional grunting suggested Clem was in fact heavy for her. But the younger girl was in no position to protest.

As Sarah slowly carried her along, Clem found herself gazing up at the stars. With her vision blurred, they all seemed to blend together into a kind of moving tapestry made of twinkling lights.

"They're beautiful," awed Clem in a weak voice.

"Huh?"

"The stars, they're so beautiful. Everything is so wrong, but they're still there." Clementine watched as the stars seemed to move, like a massive sea hanging over her. "They'll be here for like a billion years after I die."

"You're not going to die."

"If I do—"

"You're not going to die."

"If I do, you have to shoot me in the head."

"No! I… I can't do that."

"Then you have to leave me behind."

"I'm not leaving you behind."

"If you don't, I'll come back as a walker, and then I'll kill you, and I don't want that to happen," wept a sickly Clementine. "Promise me. Promise you won't let that happen."

"Clementine…"

"Promise me Sarah," begged Clem. "Promise me you won't let me kill you."

"Okay, I promise," agreed a reluctant Sarah. "But you're not dead, so please, just rest." Clementine closed her eyes. She could feel the movement of Sarah's feet, very slowly shuffling forward. She could also hear the older girl grunting as she moved, clearly struggling to support Clem's weight.

Clementine felt herself drifting away. The movements of Sarah's body and her groaning as she carried Clem started fading from her notice, leaving the young girl in a state of near sleep, just barely conscious. The whole world eventually seemed to drift away, and Clem just found herself in darkness.

She lay there, thinking about her life, and the things she had done, and everything she wished she could have done. The people she had met, and what had happened to them. It all seemed to feel more and more distant with each passing second, as if it were a dream fading from memory because she was now awake.

Except she didn't feel awake, it felt more like she was going to sleep, but couldn't. Something deep in her own mind still nagging her to cling to consciousness, even though she no longer wanted to. Clem didn't know how long she remained in this trance, but before she drifted off completely, a sudden shout from Sarah pulled Clem back to her senses.

"Oh my God!"

"What?" asked Clem, trying to force herself to remain awake.

"It's Saint Christopher's!" exclaimed an excited Sarah.

"You're sure?" asked Clem in disbelief.

"It has to be, look." Clem felt Sarah's arm pushing on her back, helping her sit up a little. The younger girl's vision was still blurry, but she could see the outline of a towering steeple sitting atop a very large building looming in the distance.

"It's huge," commented Clem. "You really can't miss it."

"Just a little further Clem," assured a giddy Sarah. "We're almost there. It's just a little further." Clementine could feel Sarah moving faster. Sitting up, Clem looked out at the church in the distance in anticipation. It seemed so far away, but with every step it grew a tiny bit closer.

Clementine found she was unable to look away from Saint Christopher's, even though it only appeared as a blur to her. Eventually it became so large that it was all she could see. Looking down, Clem noticed Sarah was carrying her through the parking lot now. The young girl's heart started beating faster as it felt like Sarah was climbing the stairs. They were so close that Clem just wanted to reach out and touch the building, only to find herself tumbling onto the ground.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" apologized Sarah as she helped Clem sit up. "I lost my balance on the last step and—"

"Sarah," called Clem as loudly as she could. "Are we there?"

"Yes Clem, we are," announced an excited Sarah. "Look." Clem felt Sarah's hand on her shoulder, tilting her slightly to the right. "There's the door." Clem saw what she thought were three large double doors in front of her. "Just a minute."

Clementine watched as Sarah moved to the first door. She pulled on it a couple of times, before trying to push it open once. She then hastily moved to the middle door, pulling on it as hard as she could for a moment before ramming it with her shoulder. Clem felt what little strength she had left drain out of her body as she watched Sarah desperately yanking on the third door's handles before banging on the wood with her fists in desperation.

"Why?" cried Sarah. "Why!"

"It's okay Sarah."

"No… no it's not."

"It's okay," repeated Clem, trying not to cry herself. "You did everything you could." Sarah rushed back to Clem's side.

"There's… there's got to be another way in," insisted Sarah, her voice dripping with desperation. "Nick wouldn't tell us to come here if there wasn't a way inside."

"Maybe we were just supposed to meet in the parking lot or something," mumbled Clem. "I don't know." Clementine fell onto her side, devoid of the energy to even sit up anymore.

"Clem!" Sarah dragged Clem towards the door, propping her up against it so she could sit up. "Just rest here. I'll look for another way in and—"

"Sarah," croaked Clem. "Don't go…"

"Oh… okay, I'll carry you and—"

"Don't…"

"But—"

"I… I just want to tell you a few things," explained Clem. "In case you have to leave me behind."

"No! I couldn't—"

"Please Sarah," begged Clem in a quiet voice. "I need to tell you this."

"Oh… okay." Sarah knelt down and inched closer to Clementine so she could hear her better.

"I just wanted to say, I'm really glad I met you. And, I wanted to thank you, for helping me, and always being nice to me, even when I wasn't nice to you."

"You were always nice to me," insisted Sarah.

"No, not always," corrected a guilt-stricken Clem.

"You were almost always nice to me, and you helped me way more than I could ever help you."

"Sarah, you're really brave. And you're really strong too."

"No I'm—"

"Yes you are," insisted Clem in as stern a tone as she could muster. "You know how you said you feel better when I'm around?" Sarah nodded. "I felt the same way about you."

"You… you did?"

Clem nodded. "Yeah, I always felt a lot better when I was with you."

"Even when I mess up?"

"Yeah. The reason I got so mad when you tried to shoot yourself, is because I thought you were just going to leave me behind, and I'd be all alone, and there would be no one left in the world who cared about me."

"Oh Clem, I'm so sorry," sobbed Sarah. "I'll… I'll never leave you again, I promise."

"I know you never would want to," noted Clem in a sober tone. "But you might have to."

"But…" Sarah found herself at a loss for words.

"You gotta try and find Christa and Nick. They'll help take care of you. Christa can be kinda mean sometimes, but she can also be really nice, and she's really smart. She was the one who saved you after Bill choked you, even though she was afraid you'd turn into a walker."

"She did? I didn't know that."

"If you don't find them, then you just need to keep moving. Places like Shaffer's, they're always looking for more people to hurt, or kill. So you gotta be ready to get away if you see bad people."

"How will I know if they're bad?"

"I don't know. But always be ready to move, in case you find out."

"Okay, I… I will."

"And…" Clem struggled to offer her hand to Sarah, finding the mere act of lifting her arm difficult. Seeing Clem's shaking hand, Sarah grasped it with her own. Feeling Sarah holding her and looking into the older girl's big brown eyes, Clem felt oddly peaceful. "I'll…"

Clem watched as a mysterious figure emerged from behind Sarah and loomed over her. Before Clem could even open her mouth to warn Sarah, the figure advanced on the older girl and aimed something directly at her back.

"Don't move," ordered a man in a hushed voice. Clem watched as a sense of panic gripped the older girl. "Put your hands up. Slowly." Sarah took her hands off Clem and raised them into the air, shaking horribly as she did so. Clem however guided her trembling hand to her hip.

"I figured you'd come this way," grumbled the man in a bitter tone. "I never should have let you live." Sarah watched as Clem pulled her gun from her hip. The older girl grew more terrified as she saw Clem click the safety off and aim the gun directly at her.

"Move up against the doors." Clem nodded at Sarah in response to the man's order, and the older girl suddenly realized Clem's plan. Clem placed her finger on the trigger as Sarah slowly stood up and stepped aside. Clem's hands shook as she watched Sarah move out of the way. As soon as Clem found the gun aiming at Sarah's attacker, she moved to pull the trigger, but couldn't.

The exhausted girl strained with every fiber of her being to fire the gun, but could barely keep her arm in the air. The mystery attacker seemed to turn towards Clem in surprise, just as the sick girl felt her whole body go limp. The gun fell out of her hand, and she fell onto the ground. Just before everything went black, Clementine could hear Sarah one last time, screaming her name.


	77. The Kindness of Strangers

Clementine opened her eyes, and found nothing but darkness. She felt something wet lying on her head, and something else binding her hands behind her back. She tried to stand, only to discover her ankles were tied together. The girl tried yelling next, but there was something covering her mouth.

Clementine started thrashing about, desperate to pull free from her restraints. She tried screaming as loud as she could but whatever was gagging her was too tight to make much noise. And no matter how hard she pulled she couldn't separate her hands or feet. Clem struggled with every bit of strength she had, but it was hopeless. All she managed to do was knock off whatever was lying on her forehead.

Clementine rolled onto her side and started bawling as much as she could with a gag covering her mouth, tears pouring down her face and onto the floor. Terror gripped the helpless nine-year-old as horrible thoughts entered her mind about the horrible things whoever tied her up was going to do to her.

Then those horrible thoughts turned to Sarah and whatever horrible things the man who found her did. He said he shouldn't have let her live, so Clem figured that could only mean Sarah was dead, and wouldn't be if she had just been strong enough to pull the trigger, which just made Clem cry harder.

Sobbing to herself in the darkness, Clementine found herself thinking, why? Why is it after everything she had done, this is where she ends up. A small light illuminated the area but Clem couldn't bear to look. She forced her eyes shut, too afraid to face whatever terrible thing fate had in store for her next.

"Clementine?" Opening her eyes, Clementine saw a very familiar woman holding a lantern while sitting with her back against the wall.

"Restuh!" yelled Clem through her gag.

"Oh thank God!" exclaimed a relieved Christa. "Thank God you're awake." Clem started thrashing against her restraints again. "Just calm down Clem. Just—" Christa groaned and clutched her stomach. "Clem, I can't really get up right now, but if you roll over to me, I can untie you." Clementine rocked back and forth a few times, then rolled over to Christa.

"Okay, just hold it right there," instructed Christa as she leaned in close to Clementine. "Just give me a minute." Clem felt a tug on her gag, then it went slack and fell off. Clem took some deep breaths, then started coughing. "I'm so sorry about this sweetie," said Christa as she undid Clementine's hands. "I'm so sorry." Her hands free, Clem immediately reached for her feet. She untied the rope binding her ankles, then immediately spun around and tried to hug Christa.

"Ahh! Easy Clem." Clem backed away from Christa. Looking at the woman, she was breathing hard and had Sarah's jacket draped over her legs.

"What's wrong?" asked Clem.

"I went into labor—" Christa groaned in pain for a moment. "On the way here."

"Labor? What—"

"It means the baby is coming."

"Now?" asked a shocked Clem.

"Eventually," groaned Christa. "God knows I've been stuck here long enough."

"Here?" asked Clem. "Where are we?"

"Clem—"

"Wait, where's Sarah?" asked a panicked Clem.

"She's—"

"What are—"

"Clementine!" Clem looked to Christa. "Calm down. Sarah's okay. Just—" Christa groaned again. "Just relax. One question at a time."

"Okay." Clem took a couple of quick breaths. "Where are we?"

"We're in the basement of Saint Christopher's."

"When did you get here?"

"Not long before you and Sarah did." Christa gritted her teeth as she groaned in pain again.

"Where's Sarah?" asked an anxious Clem.

"She went with Nick to get Pete's supplies for us."

"When are they coming back?"

"I don't know. They've been gone for a while, but Nick acted like it was a bit of a walk from here. He said if they didn't get back before the herd, they might have to wait for it to pass through before they could come back inside."

"The herd?"

"Yeah I started hearing it pass by a while ago. I think they might still be passing through. I haven't been able to leave this room, so it's hard to know." Listening closely, Clementine could just barely hear what sounded like the distant shuffling of feet, but it was very faint.

"Wait, why did Sarah go with Nick?"

"She told us you were sick, so she wanted to go with Nick because she thought there might be something with the supplies that could help you." Christa grimaced in pain for a moment. "That's why we had you tied up Clem. We didn't know if you were going to die in your sleep or not. It's also why they left this with me." Clementine watched as Christa slid her gun and its holster towards her. "In case you turned."

Clementine reached to pick up her gun and found her gag lying in her lap. It was her own belt. As she picked up her belt, Clem noticed a piece of Sarah's shirt lying on the ground. It must have been what was lying on her head when she woke up. Beyond that Clem saw her backpack, axe, raincoat and knife lying across from her. She picked up the knife and started threading her belt through her pants.

"I'm so sorry about having you tied up sweetie," apologized a guilt-stricken Christa. "Nick wanted to lock you in another room, but if you woke up while they were gone and I couldn't get up, you'd be stuck until they got back, and I wanted you to know everything was okay when you woke up and…" Christa trailed off. "This was the best we could do. To make sure you didn't bite me if the worst happened. I'm sorry to put you through that sweetie. God knows you've been through enough."

"Wait, someone attacked us," remembered Clem as she buckled her belt. "Right outside the front door."

"It was just Nick."

"Nick?"

"From behind, all he could see was someone with a machete in a rain coat. He figured it had to be that fucker Matt."

"Matt?"

"Son of a bitch found me and Nick after we got out of the herd and stuck us up when I started going into labor. Asshole had taken Bill's gun when we were busy coating ourselves with that girl's innards. Then the little bastard said he'd shoot us both if we didn't give him the crossbow Nick had and the machete I took."

"Even after Nick saved Matt's life?"

"Said it was the only reason he didn't shoot us in the back and just take the stuff," explained Christa through gritted teeth. "Then he talked some shit about what would happen if he found you."

"Nick should have let him die," concluded an embittered Clem. "Wait, Nick was the one who snuck up on Sarah and pointed a gun at her?"

"We didn't have a gun. He was using a crowbar he found earlier, figured he could bluff someone. But then he heard Sarah scream your name and we realized it was you two."

"That means… I almost shot Nick," realized a horrified Clementine.

"Well… you didn't, so…"

"Only because I passed out first. If I hadn't… Nick would be dead right now." Christa started moaning in pain. "What's wrong?"

"It's the baby. It's coming."

"What should I do?" asked a panicked Clem.

"Right now, there's not really anything you can do."

"But you said it's coming."

"It's been coming since shortly after we got here," moaned Christa in pain. "It takes a while Clementine. So unless you found some painkillers or something, there's not much you can do for me."

"No, sorry." Clementine watched as Christa gritted her teeth. "I'll… I'll keep quiet."

"No, no, keep talking," insisted Christa. "It's helping."

"Okay…" Clem tried to think of something to talk about. "How'd you get in? Sarah tried the front doors, but they wouldn't open."

"Backdoor," answered Christa. "Nick says Shaffer's uses this place as a pit stop to plan their supply runs through Springfield. So they only leave one small door open to keep the dead from getting in, or the living."

"Okay…" Clem tried to think of something else.

"What happened to Carlos?" asked Christa. "Nick asked Sarah, and she started crying, so we figured he didn't make it."

"A walker bit him when we were almost out of the herd. Then he yelled, and another one bit him, and then another…" Clem trailed off.

"Jesus," mumbled a pained Christa.

"I don't know what went wrong," said Clem as she sat down. "I thought smelling like the walkers would mean we were safe. But a walker bit his leg, even though he was being quiet."

"His leg? Which one?"

"Um, the right, I think. Why?"

"He had a lot of blood on his pants from kicking Bill's face in," noted Christa. "Maybe the walker smelt it."

"I… I didn't even think of that. I… I should have known that. I should have said something. It's my fault he—"

"No, Clem, stop it. Stop blaming yourself for things that weren't your fault. Things were crazy back there and we never would have gotten out of there if it weren't for you."

"But he'd still be alive if I said something. Then Sarah…" Christa looked to Clem as she trailed off. "I just didn't want her to lose her dad." Christa reached out and put her arm around Clem.

"I'm so sorry sweetie. But if anyone is to blame for that, it'd be me," insisted an ashamed Christa.

"Why did you tell Bill we were escaping?"

"I'm so sorry Clem. I—"

"I'm not mad," assured a weary Clem. "I just want to know why."

"He told me, that me raising my baby at Shaffer's would be good for morale, and that could just be my reason for living outside the pen. But he'd only let you come with me if he felt like I had proved to him that I was dependable.

"He asked me how Carlos got the guns, but I couldn't tell him you got them, so I just lied and said he had them when I woke up. When you told me about leaving during the herd, I told Bill to wait for us by the main gate, and whoever got the guns might come with us when we leave, and he could catch them red handed.

"I figured I'd have to make up an excuse later when no one else was there. Maybe say they opened the gate while I was asleep or something but…" Christa bit her lip. "But Sarah was with us when we left, so, Bill must have thought it had been her."

"That's why you didn't want me to tell her," realized Clem.

"I figured Bill was never going to let Carlos be with her again, so I told myself if I could get you out of the pen, then we could both help her." Christa groaned again.

"But why didn't you just want to leave with everyone? Didn't you believe me when I said we could get past the walkers?"

"I believed you Clem. It was everything else I was worried about."

"Everything else?"

"You were lying in bed, crying about how afraid you were that someone was going to rape you and I was thinking about how I couldn't even stop Carlos and Nick at the cabin, and I just—" Christa bleated in pain. "I just thought I couldn't protect you out there anymore."

"But, why didn't you tell me?"

"I was ashamed. I was selling out everyone else, and, I didn't want to put that on you too. I thought it would just be better if you hated me and were safe than go back out there again." Christa turned away. "I'm so sorry Clementine." Clem looked at the horrible guilt and tremendous pain on Christa's face.

"Well… you got us out of there though," rationalized Clem. "You took my gun because you knew Carlos would stop Bill."

"I took your gun because I was afraid of what would happen if you shot Bill," confessed a tearful Christa. "Even then, I was still more afraid of doing something than stopping that horrible man."

"Then, why did you shoot?"

"I wasn't going to, but then I saw her face."

"Whose?"

"Consuelo," snarled Christa. "That fucking smug smile she had while Bill was choking Sarah. That goddamn animal was savoring every second of it and I… I just couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand the idea of someone like her living a moment longer. Those other two just kinda happened, but her…" Christa started breathing harder as a vicious anger filled her eyes.

"She deserved it," commented Clem without a hint of sympathy.

"No," snapped Christa. "She deserved a lot worse."

"Like… what Carlos did to Bill?"

"Yeah." Christa turned to Clem and saw the uneasy look on her face. "Shit, listen to me. Talking about how I wanted to see someone tortured."

"She was a horrible person," commented a bitter Clem. "I'm glad I shot off her thumb."

"No, Clem, don't say that," insisted Christa.

"Why not?" shrugged Clem. "I've seen lots of horrible things. Why should I feel bad when something horrible happens to someone who deserved it?"

"I didn't say you need to feel bad, but, you shouldn't enjoy it either. That's a real bad habit you don't want to pick up."

"Why not?"

"Because, you get it in your head that it's good to make certain people suffer, and you might find yourself doing horrible things just because you want to."

"Like, when Matt shot Bridget?"

"Or… when I wanted to shoot Carlos, right in front of his daughter," sobbed an anguished Christa.

"But, you didn't."

"Only because of you Clem. And I would have shot Sarah in the head if you hadn't of stopped me."

"But not because you wanted to. You were trying to protect me."

"I was just afraid then too. Too afraid to even try to help her until you told me it was my fault if she died."

"I'm sorry I said that. I—'

"Don't be, you were right."

"No, Christa—"

"I've just been no good since I lost Omid."

"You've—"

"He would have told me just how fucked up I've been acting."

"Christa!" Christa turned and looked down at Clem. She watched as the young girl gripped her hand with both of hers. "I love you."

"What?" exclaimed a shocked Christa.

"I love you," repeated Clem.

"You… you don't hate me for what I've done?"

"I love you."

"I… oh God…" Christa found herself speechless as she watched Clem lean her head against her side. "I love you too, Clementine." Christa tightened her grip on Clem and tried to stifle her groans from the pain she was suffering.

"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here Clem," admitted a tearful Christa. "I… I guess that sounds crazy but…"

"It doesn't sound crazy at all," assured Clem in a calm voice.

"It's just, I'm supposed to be taking care of you. You shouldn't have to help take care of me."

"We're taking care of each other. That's how me and Sarah made it here. She even carried me when I couldn't walk anymore."

"God, when Nick carried you in, I thought you were dead already."

"I thought I was dying," admitted Clem. "But, you know what? I was happy."

"Clementine…"

"I don't mean I wanted to die, I didn't. It's just, if I had died, it'd be okay, because I helped Sarah first, and, that made me feel good." Clem opened her eyes and looked up at Christa.

"You've helped a lot more people than just her, Clem," assured Christa, trying to force a smile through her pain.

"Do… do you think Lee felt like that about me? That, even if he didn't want to die, he was happy that I was still alive?"

"I'm sure he did," answered Christa without hesitation.

"How can you be sure? You didn't know him that long."

"Clem, if there was one thing I was sure about in the short time I knew Lee, it was that he was crazy about you." Clem smiled a little. "Did I ever tell you about what happened right after he got bitten?"

"You tried to a couple of times, after we moved into the cabin. But, I didn't want to hear about it."

"Do you want to hear it now?"

"Sure."

"We all came out of the house, looking for you and him. Lee was standing in the alley, and he showed us he had a bite mark on his wrist."

"How?"

"There was a dead walker on the ground next to him. It must have caught him off guard or something."

"That's… that's it?"

"Yeah. And yet the only thing on his mind right then was getting you back."

"Really?"

"I think it was the only thing on all our minds, even if Lee did have to remind Kenny and Ben first."

"What happened to them?"

"We were moving across the roofs and the balcony Ben was standing on gave out. Lee and Kenny went down after them, only Lee came out. It was just, bad fucking luck really."

"Is that why I'm still alive then? Because I've been lucky?"

"Clem, you're only nine and the whole fucking world fell apart. You've already been dealt a lifetime of rotten luck."

"Yeah, but the whole world is harder for everybody, not just me."

"Most of us got a lot more time to live before that happened. You only got nine years."

"Actually, I was still eight when it started."

"Even less than. I wouldn't feel bad about the few times you catch a break Clem."

"It's not that," said Clem. "I'm just worried about what will happen if I stop being lucky."

"Well, in the long run, all you can really do is hedge your bets, but you're never going to be safe all the time," explained Christa. "That was true before things changed. Not like now, but even then, you could make all the right moves and shit still could fall apart." Clementine sighed.

"Hey, don't fret, we're okay right now," assured Christa as she rubbed Clem's shoulder. "Hopefully, Nick and Sarah will get back soon, and—" Christa yelped in pain. "And hopefully I can have the baby, and then we can all move on."

"Hopefully." Clementine coughed a few times.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know, lousy," shrugged Clem. "But, better than before." Christa briefly yelled out in pain for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Not particularly," mumbled a pained Christa.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"For now, just keep talking. I meant it when I said it helps," assured Christa. "I… I noticed someone cut Sarah's hair. I'm guessing that was you."

"Yeah, I hated doing that, and I hate cutting my hair too."

"Why do you do it then?"

"So it's safer," recited a tired Clem. "So people can't grab it."

"Why not just pull your hair back into a bun like I do? Instead of doing those little pigtails you always have?"

"I don't know. Lee just said it was important my hair was safe and we had to cut it and that's what he did. So now that's what I do."

"I know you two were close, but that doesn't mean Lee was right about everything," said Christa with a smirk. "He was a smart man, but I don't think a girl's hair was one of his fields of expertise."

"Actually, he said he had no idea what he was doing when he cut my hair," recalled Clementine.

"I gotta admire that kind of blunt honesty," chucked Christa while trying not to groan. "But, if you don't like cutting your hair so short but still want it to be safe, maybe you should just pull it back tight enough where people can't grab it."

"Would that work?"

"Go ahead and try it." Clementine stood up and tried to grab some of Christa's hair, but found it pulled too tightly to the scalp to grab with her hands. She managed to snag some strains with her fingertips, but she couldn't really get a grip on it. "Well, someone could still grab the bun."

"Well, let me see your hat for a second." Clementine took off her hat. As she handed it over, Clem couldn't help noticing Christa was staring at the top of her head.

"Does my hair look that bad?" asked Clem.

"No, it's… it's just that you look so different from the last time I saw you," reasoned Christa. "It's weird seeing you with a holster too."

"Actually I like it," said Clem as she looked down at the holster. "It's a lot easier to use my gun now."

"And those raincoats you and Sarah had, with the walker guts on it. Pretty clever."

"That was Sarah's idea. I just packed the raincoats because I was sick of getting caught in the rain all the time, plus it washed the walker stuff off our clothes. When we had to do it again, Sarah thought we should just put it on the raincoats instead." Clementine looked at the hat and sighed. "How bad does my hair look?"

"It's… it's okay." Clem stared at Christa in response. "It… it looks kinda like a blind man tried to shave your head." Clem sighed. "Sorry sweetie."

"I did it in the dark because I didn't want to see how bad it looks."

"Well, it'll grow back, and when it does." Christa adjusted the band on Clem's hat, then slipped it on her own head, covering her hair bun. "You can try pulling your hair back instead."

"I think I'd like that better. But I left my hair thingies behind."

"We'll find you some new ones."

"That'd be nice. But, what happens if someone pulls off my hat?"

"Well, like I said, you're never safe a hundred percent of the time." Christa took the hat off and handed it back to Clementine. "And you'll drive yourself crazy if you try to be. Or in my case, I used to drive Omid crazy."

"He loved you Christa," assured Clem as she put her hat back on.

"I didn't make it easy for him sometimes though," sighed Christa. "I actually didn't want to stop that day when we heard your people talking. I just wanted to keep going, but then he had to say hi and, well, couldn't exactly tell everyone to just ignore us, so I spoke up too."

"I understand why you never wanted to find new people now," spoke a sober Clem. "You never know for sure if they're going to hurt you or not."

"Yeah, but sometimes—" A rattling sound interrupted Christa. Clem looked at the door just beside where Christa was sitting. The door knob was shaking.

"Sarah and Nick are back," realized an excited Clem. "Let's—"

Christa made a shushing noise. "That's not them," she whispered.

"How do you know?" whispered Clem.

"Nick said he'd knock twice, then once when he got back."

"Then, who is it?"

"No idea, that's why I locked the door after they left."


	78. Saint Christopher's

The doorknob was still now, but there was no doubt in the young girl's mind, someone had just tried to come in. Clementine drew her gun and stood up.

"What are you doing?" whispered Christa.

"I'll go check it out," asserted Clem.

"No, Clem—"

"If it's someone bad, they might attack Sarah and Nick when they get back."

Christa sighed. "Okay, but get your raincoat, in case there's any walkers in here." Clementine put her raincoat on, then picked up her axe and hoisted it onto her back. She opted to leave the backpack for now and headed for the door. "Take the lantern too." Clementine grabbed the lantern and hooked it onto her belt loop. "If there are walkers, try not to shoot if you can help it. Even if the herd is gone there's probably a lot still in the area."

"Got it." Clem moved to the door.

"And if it is Matt. I wouldn't give him a chance," warned Christa in a harsh tone.

"I won't," assured Clem in an equally harsh tone. Clementine aimed her gun at the door while Christa stretched out her arm and reached for the lock. With a couple of quick motions, Christa unlocked the door and pulled it wide open.

Clementine kept her gun aimed ahead, waiting for any sign of danger. Seeing nothing just beyond the threshold, Clem moved to the door and quickly looked both ways. On her left was a dead end, on her right was a staircase.

"What do you see?" whispered Christa.

"Nothing, just the stairs," whispered Clem. "I'm gonna check it out."

"Clem no. Just come back."

"If it's Matt, this might be my chance to stop him." Christa sighed. "Lock the door. I'll knock twice and then once when I get back, like Nick is supposed to do."

"Be careful Clem," warned Christa.

"I will." Christa closed the door and Clem heard a lock click in place. She then started slowly moving up the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. She reached the top and slowly turned the knob. Cracking the door open slightly, Clem slipped through the narrow opening.

She found herself standing in a massive and fairly lavish sanctuary. There were rows and rows of pews leading up to what Clementine presumed was the altar. The nervous young girl frantically looked around, trying to find any sign of an intruder.

The lantern only illuminated a small fraction of the massive church, making it difficult for Clem to properly survey the area. Moving down the aisles, she covered her mouth to cough a few times, then spun around, paranoid something was behind her.

As she neared the front of the sanctuary, Clem noticed some of the pews had been broken into pieces, and the ones at the front were gone entirely. All that was left were spots on the floor where they used to be bolted to the ground. Reaching the end of the pews, Clementine found there was no altar.

Instead, there seemed to be an improv fire pit made from the bottom of a metal barrel. There were some plastic folding chairs arranged around it and beyond them a few dry erase boards with some papers taped to them that looked like maps.

Looking past the boards, Clementine noticed a large ornate mural. It featured a bearded man in red and blue holding a staff in one hand and cradling a small child on his shoulder with the other hand. Studying it, Clem noticed the pair were looking at each other.

Turning away from the mural, Clem saw a door off to the side. She stepped over to it while looking out at the rest of the church. Clem kept expecting something to jump out at her, even though she didn't hear anything. Reaching the door, Clem found it to be a very heavy metal door, but with some effort she managed to crack it open.

Clem looked at what seemed like some kind of backstage area. She also could see another door off in the distance. Closing the heavy door and moving back across the sanctuary, Clementine went past the entrance to basement and into a reception area. She saw three wooden double doors, probably the same ones Sarah tried to open.

Looking at them closely, Clem noticed each had small metal pieces that slid into the door frames at the top of the door. It reminded her a little of the barricades at Shaffer's, but far less drastic. Looking closely, Clem saw the doors were indeed locked.

Scanning the immediate area, Clem noticed more doors on her right and left. It dawned on her that the church was much too big for her to search entirely on her own, and she had no idea where if anywhere the possible intruder was. Thinking it better not to leave Christa alone, Clem quietly moved back to the basement door.

As she moved downstairs, Clementine could hear muffled screams coming from the bottom of the stairs. She rushed down and tried to open the door, but it was locked. Clem knocked on it twice and was about to knock a third time when the door swung open.

"Oh God!" shrieked Christa as Clem rushed to her side.

"What's wrong?" asked Clem as she set the lantern down.

"It's happening!" cried an agonized Christa.

"The baby?"

"What else!" growled Christa before yelling in pain again. "Clem, I need your help!"

"Me?" asked a panicked Clem. "Wuh… what can I do?"

"First, get rid of the raincoat," ordered Christa. "I don't want to risk getting any of that stuff on the baby." Clementine took off her raincoat and flung it into the corner. "Now, we don't have time to wash your hands, so—" Christa hollered in pain again. "So, only touch the baby using Sarah's coat."

"Sarah's coat?"

"Yeah, pick it up and place it between my legs," ordered Christa. "Make sure the inside is facing up. The outside is filthy, but the inside was the cleanest thing we could find before they left."

Clementine reluctantly removed Sarah's jacket and laid it out on the ground directly in front of Christa's legs. In doing so, Clem found herself looking at a very surreal sight that she didn't know what to think of.

"Now, do you see the baby's head?" grunted Christa.

"I… I don't know," muttered a perplexed Clem as Christa started screaming again.

"Just, what do you see?" asked Christa.

"There's… like a big round thing, with hair…"

"That's the head," informed a tormented Christa. "That's good. You need to support its head as it comes out. Just make sure you've got the jacket between your hands and the baby." Clementine edged in closer to Christa as she started screaming again. Clementine moved her hands underneath the jacket and noticed the head seemed to be getting bigger.

"So, I'm going to catch the baby?" asked Clem.

"More or less," grumbled an anguished Christa. "Just…" Christa started screaming, and was joined by another screaming voice.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Clementine. "I… I see it! It's crying!"

"Hold it!" Clem moved her covered hands just under the baby's head, trying to gently brace it.

"Is there anything wrapped around its neck?" yelled Christa.

"No!" reported Clementine. "Should… should I try to pull it out?"

"No!" yelled Christa through clenched teeth.

"Then what?"

"Just…" Christa took a couple of quick breaths before she started screaming. And as she screamed, Clem watched as the baby slid into her grasp. Very carefully she moved it a few inches away from Christa, mindful of the long tube coming out of the baby's stomach.

"Is… is it out?" Clementine kept staring at the baby as it cried softly, stunned at the sight of the tiny person in her grasp. "Clementine?" Clem carefully stood up, holding the baby out for Christa to see. "Oh… oh my God…"

"It's… it's a boy," noted a perplexed Clementine.

"He's so beautiful" professed an exhausted Christa in between deep breaths. "And… since he's not a girl… I guess Omid it is," chuckled Christa.

"Isn't… isn't that confusing?" joked Clem, laughing a little herself.

"You're right. Better go with Omid Junior," laughed Christa.

"O.J. His initials are OJ," noted an amused Clementine.

"Clementine and OJ. If Omid was here… he'd already be putting together a whole routine around that." Christa started laughing, then started sobbing.

"Christa…"

"No, no… it's okay," assured Christa as she stopped crying. "It's okay." Christa looked down at her son and smiled. "One of you is enough."

"Oh wow…" Clem and Christa turned their heads to find Sarah and Nick standing in the door, stunned looks on both their faces.


	79. Reunion

Clementine tried to collect herself, still rattled by the intense experience of seeing Omid Jr being born. Nick had volunteered to help Christa, allowing Clem to move to one of the corners further from the lantern so she could lie down and rest for a minute.

Lying on her side, Clementine tried to breathe normally. She wasn't sure if it was because she was sick or what just happened, but in either case, she suddenly felt very drained, desperate for a few moments of peace. Hearing footsteps approach, Clem looked up to see someone standing over her in the dim light.

"Sarah," greeted a tired but eager Clem.

"Clementine," said Sarah, her voice full of relief and a tinge of concern. "I… I got some medicine for you." Clementine sat up as Sarah sat down in front of her.

"Do you have any food?"

"Yeah, we'll get you something to eat in a minute," assured Sarah. "First, I want you to drink a little cough syrup." Sarah opened a bottle and started pouring some liquid into the cap. "Pete was smart. He had four backpacks full of useful stuff waiting for us. There were some pain killers too."

"Christa wanted those a minute ago."

"Actually she took them anyways, saying she could still use them." Sarah handed a cap full of cough syrup to Clem, who just looked at it. "Come on, it'll make you feel better." Clementine downed the cough syrup, then made a face. "Okay, now one of these." Clementine watched as Sarah removed an orange capsule from a package. "It's daytime cold medicine, so it shouldn't make you sleepy." Clem popped the pill in her mouth and grimaced. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Trying to swallow it," mumbled Clem.

"You should take a sip of water first," instructed Sarah as she offered Clem a bottled water.

"Why?"

"Because, it's easier to swallow a pill with some water." Clementine took a sip of water, then swallowed. Much to her surprise, the pill went down quite easily.

"Wow, thanks." Sarah placed her hand on Clem's forehead.

"You're still warm. But not as much as before."

"Does that mean I'm getting better?"

"I think so." Sarah and Clem looked into each other's eyes for a moment, then embraced. Clementine slowly ran her hands up and down Sarah's back, while the older girl did the same to her.

"I… I was so afraid you weren't going to wake up," whispered a tearful Sarah. "I felt sick when Nick tied you up."

"I was so scared when I woke up," confessed Clem. "I never felt so helpless, and I thought something horrible must have happened to you."

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too." Clementine closed her eyes and rested her head on Sarah's shoulder.

"Oh God," spoke Sarah in a quiet voice. "I just realized something."

"What?"

"Back at Shaffer's, I… I said you still had your mom. Oh Clem, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," assured a weary Clem. "You didn't know."

"Did… did my dad tell you not to tell me?" sobbed Sarah.

"He did, but I didn't want to talk about it anyways."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It… it felt good to finally tell someone about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I… I kept my radio because I thought I wanted something to remember them by. But really, I still think I just wanted to talk to them on it again, hear their voices, even though I knew I couldn't. You know?"

"I used to do the same thing with my dad, when we lived at Shaffer's. We'd talk on our radios sometimes when he wasn't busy. And before that, he'd call me any time he had to stay late at the hospital."

"My mom was a doctor too. But I always had my dad to keep me company when she had to work late."

"I miss my dad so much," sobbed Sarah.

"Me too," whimpered Clem. "And my mom. But, we… we gotta be strong," insisted Clem in a shaky voice as she reluctantly broke off the hug. "At least right now."

"I… I'm trying," said Sarah as she dried her eyes. "It's just… hard."

"I know. Just, try to focus on stuff you know you can do."

"I'll… I'll try."

Clementine took a deep breath. "Thanks for getting me that medicine."

"It was Pete's stuff, and Nick was the one who knew where it was."

"Still, you went with him, even though it was dangerous, that was really brave of you."

"I was scared the whole time."

"But you went anyway."

"You were really sick, and Christa was in pain, and there was nothing I could do here, so I thought…" Clementine inched in closer and wrapped her arm around Sarah's.

"You're really brave," complimented Clem.

"I… I guess." Sarah looked over at Nick as he helped Christa compose herself. "I pretty much just did what Nick said. It wasn't much different from when I was with you."

"Except it was Nick instead of me."

"He reminds me a lot of you."

"Nick reminds you of me?"

"We talked for a while when we had to wait for the herd to pass through. Nick said Pete was always telling him to be a man, and how it seemed like he was never good enough and that when we lived at Shaffer's almost everybody on the crew hated him because he never did supply runs.

"It just reminded me of you and how you said you never felt like you were good enough either and how you thought people hated you because you're a little girl. Also, you both wear ugly baseball hats."

"You think my hat is ugly?"

Sarah's eyes bugged out when she realized what she said. "I… I didn't mean ugly, I.. I just meant…" Clementine just stared at Sarah as she stammered nervously.

"Even when you're mean you're nice," smirked Clementine.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Clem took off her hat and looked at it. Even after being rained on there were still mud stains all over it, and what looked like a few blood stains as well. "My hat is ugly now."

"It… it just needs to be washed," reasoned Sarah. "Maybe once we get somewhere better we can clean it."

"Hopefully my hair will grow back by then." Clementine looked over to Sarah. "I'm sorry about cutting your hair."

"Huh?"

"Christa showed me a better way while you were gone. I didn't need to cut your hair so short."

"Oh, it's okay," assured Sarah. "I didn't really mind."

"I did. You had really pretty hair."

"I've never really worried that much about being pretty."

"I… I guess I shouldn't either," realized Clementine. "It's not important anymore."

"Well, so what?" shrugged Sarah. "You already do tons of important stuff. Who cares if you want to look pretty too?"

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem like I should worry about that."

"Right now, maybe, but what about later? Once we find somewhere safe to stay for a while, what's wrong with you wanting to be pretty then?"

"What makes you think we'll find somewhere safe?"

"Well, we have to." Clem noticed Sarah was looking at Christa, who was cradling her son in her arms. "We need a safe place for him to stay."

"You're right," realized Clementine. "We do."

"So, what was it like?"

"What?"

"Seeing a baby being born."

"It… it was really scary," confessed Clementine. "Christa was screaming the whole time and I didn't know what to do."

"I'm sorry. Both Nick and I didn't like leaving her, but she said if there was anything with Pete's supplies that could help you, that we needed to get them before you got sicker."

"But, even though it was really scary, once the baby was out, everything was okay," said Clem in a thoughtful tone.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we… we were actually laughing."

"You were?"

"Yeah, Christa named him Omid Jr. So his initials are O.J."

"Aww, that's so cute."

"And I'm Clementine, so we're both named after fruit, kinda."

"Hey." Clem and Sarah turned to see Nick standing over them. "You both gotta be hungry."

"I am," professed Clem.

"I was gonna go up top and get a fire going so we could have something warm to eat," explained Nick. "You two want to come?"

"Sure." Clementine and Sarah collected their things and headed with Nick towards the door.

"You coming?" Nick asked Christa.

"In a minute, I was going to try and feed junior first," she answered with a smile. "I figured he's probably hungry too."

"All right, we'll just give you some privacy." Clem went with Nick to the door. There were three backpacks laid against it. "Grab one of those, would ya," instructed Nick as he picked up two. As Clem picked up the third, she saw Nick had a backpack on himself. "We'll get everything sorted out once I got a fire going."

"Sarah?" Clementine turned around and saw Sarah still standing in the door, staring at Omid Jr. "Sarah, are you coming?"

"Oh, sorry," said Sarah as she looked towards Clem. "He's… he's just so beautiful. I can't even remember the last time I saw a baby."

"Yeah, me neither," mused Nick. "Still, come on, Christa wants—"

"No, it's okay," assured Christa in a warm voice. "She can stay with me for a while."

"Really?" asked a surprised Sarah.

"Sure. I owe you one for lending me your jacket," smirked Christa. "Which, I might need to hold onto for a little while."

"It's fine. I'm glad it's keeping him warm," said Sarah as she sat down next to Christa. "Can… can I hold him?"

"Just be careful with him," cautioned Christa. "You need to support his head."

"You still hungry?" Nick asked Clem.

"Yeah." Clem turned to Christa. "I'm gonna go with Nick."

"We'll join you two in a minute."


	80. Bygones

Nick turned on a flashlight and headed up the stairs, Clementine following close behind him. The pair moved across the sanctuary, arriving at the improv fire pit. Nick set the backpacks down and Clem set the one she was holding next to them.

"Just give me a minute," said Nick as he removed the backpack he was wearing. "We were in kind of a rush to get back, so, we still don't know exactly everything we got."

"I've got some things that might help," said Clem as she took off her own backpack.

"I noticed that," commented a weary Nick as he started emptying the first pack. "You get that stuff at Emmet's?"

"Um, yeah. How did you know?"

"I figured," shrugged Nick. "Pete told me it was right on the highway and there was a lot of excessive hardware that Shaffer's didn't need we could pick up on the way out of town." Nick sighed. "I… I should have told you all that before we left."

"Well, me and Sarah found it," said Clem as Nick began to empty one of the bags. "How come you didn't get anything though?"

"Christa was in labor, and the pain was causing her to make a lot of noise, so we had to get off the highway. Pete told me that McCall Road also led right to Saint Christopher's. It was about the same distance, but mostly through the woods, so there weren't many lurkers." Nick paused. "I should've told you all about it as well."

"It's okay Nick," assured Clem. "You're doing your best."

"If Pete was here, I'm sure he'd be giving me some shit about how my best wasn't enough," grumbled Nick as he unpacked another bag. "But… we'd all be better off right now, because he'd know what to do."

"I think you're doing a good job."

Nick examined a couple of cans. "What do you want? We got pineapples, corn, and sweet peas."

"Um, I think I'd like to try the sweet peas."

Nick removed a can opener from the bag. "Pete always planned ahead." Nick sighed as he opened the can. "Bon Appétit." Nick placed a spoon in the can and handed it to Clem.

"I thought you were going to cook something," reminded Clem.

"I saw some soup and a pot in here. I'll start a fire and warm it up," explained Nick as he dug through a third bag. "Just consider that an appetizer or something." Clementine scooped a spoonful of sweet peas into her mouth. She found they did taste slightly sweet, if a little mushy as well. Mostly she was just happy to have something to eat again, savoring her first morsel since leaving Shaffer's. As Clem chewed her food she found her loose tooth was bothering her, but only slightly.

"If you need something to start a fire, I—" Clementine watched as Nick removed a lighter from one of the bags. "Oh."

"Like I said, Pete planned ahead." Nick pocketed the lighter. "Still, mind if I borrow your tomahawk?"

"My what?"

"Your axe."

"Oh." Clem picked it up off the ground. "Is that what it's called?"

"Yeah." Nick took the tomahawk. "Easier to chop some wood with it than with a crowbar." Nick moved to nearest still standing pew and started hacking away at it. As he did, Clementine unpacked the backpack she had carried. She found more canned goods and bottled water, which she set out.

Clem also found a roll of fishing line, which she set aside, and a small plastic box full of sewing needles, which she felt uneasy just looking at. Then a spoon, a cup, a toothbrush, and at the bottom of the bag was a small rectangular mirror with a hole cut in the middle.

Tinkering with it, Clementine noticed she could see her reflection in it. She took off her hat and tried to see her hair in the mirror, then wished she hadn't. Putting her hat back on, Clem found herself thinking that Christa's description was actually a little generous. She watched as Nick dropped some wood into the fire pit, then tore off the papers taped to the white boards.

"Why did Pete pack a mirror?" asked Clem before scooping another spoonful of moist peas into her mouth.

"It's a signal mirror," explained Nick as he shredded the paper and started arranging it in the fire pit. "You look through the hole so you can aim reflected light in the direction you want." Clementine looked through the hole, realizing it was like a scope, except it didn't make things bigger. "Pete made us ditch our radios once we left because he figured Bill would try to listen in on us with them. I guess he packed those so we'd have some other way to talk to each other."

"How do you talk to each other with mirrors?"

"Well, you can reflect light to let people know where you are," shrugged Nick. "You can do Morse code with it too. Don't suppose you know Morse code. Do you?"

"No."

"Yeah, me neither." Nick rolled up a piece of paper and took out the lighter.

"Sarah had to use that fire starter thing when we got out of the rain earlier," said Clem.

"I hate those fucking things," commented Nick as he lit the paper on fire. "Bill used to say the reason he'd give us those instead of lighters or matches is because we needed to save that stuff for the crew, in case they ever needed to start a fire in a hurry." Nick guided the flaming paper into the fire pit.

"Fucker probably just wanted to horde all the easy stuff for himself. I never saw his lazy ass spend ten minutes scraping that shit into a pile just for it to go out too quickly and have to do it all over again." Clementine spooned out some more peas as the flame from the papers spread to the wood in the fire pit, illuminating the area a little more.

"Sarah said it was easy."

"Did she?" Clem nodded as she chewed her food. "Well, maybe it's just one more thing I suck at then." Clementine watched as Nick took a metal grill piece sitting beside the pit and put it over the barrel, suspending it over the fire.

Watching the man, Clem could see he was clearly depressed just by the way he moved. The way it seemed like he was forcing himself to act and the dulled expression on his face. It reminded Clem of how Christa acted after Omid died. Watching him set the iron pot on the barrel, Clem thought she should say something.

"Thanks for helping us Nick." Nick scoffed as he took a can opener and a can of chicken soup. "I mean it, you've done a lot for us."

"I brought you the stuff Pete stashed for us," mumbled Nick as he poured the soup into the pot. "He had more to do with that than I did."

"That's not all you did. You also helped Christa get here. And back at Shaffer's, you gave me your soup. You saved my life outside the lodge and—"

"Pete would have done all that and more if he was here," grumbled an irritated Nick as he picked up a bottle of water. "I'm just what's left over." Clementine thought on Nick's words, finding it reminded her of something Pete said.

"He said you were the closest thing he had to a son."

Nick looked up at Clementine. "Pete said that about me?" Clem nodded. "When?"

"Back on the river, the first night after we left the cabin." Nick seemed stunned by this revelation. "I think he'd be really proud of you Nick, and, I'm glad you're here."

"You… you really mean that?" asked Nick, clearly surprised by what Clementine just said. "Even though I… shot the guy who was taking care of you."

"Yeah, I mean it Nick," professed Clem in a sincere voice. "And… I feel really horrible about trying to shoot you outside."

"You thought somebody was about to hurt someone you were looking out for," reasoned Nick in a detached tone. "I did the same thing, except I actually pulled trigger."

"I was going to," admitted a guilt-ridden Clementine. "The only reason I didn't is because I couldn't, and I feel really terrible that I almost killed you."

"Don't," insisted Nick in a quiet voice. "Would have been poetic justice if you had killed me."

"No it wouldn't," stated Clem in a certain voice. "It would have just been another horrible thing that happened, like what happened with Omid. It would have been… bad fucking luck."

"God knows we've got plenty of that these days," noted Nick in a grim tone.

"And I'm really sorry about pointing my gun at you that first time too, when I was just really mad," apologized Clem. "I shouldn't have done that." Clementine's confession seemed to make Nick uncomfortable.

"I… I never actually told you I was sorry for just leaving you out in that shed," realized Nick.

"Yes you did. Back at the cabin."

"Yeah, but I said it like an asshole. So… I'm sorry I did that to you. I knew it was wrong right then and I did it anyway."

"Why did you do it then?" asked Clem. "Were you really that afraid of Carlos?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly helping, but it wasn't just him. Back at Shaffer's, I got stuck watching that Matt kid a lot when he was working."

"Yeah, he told me about you."

"He also tell you about how he was faking sick all the time so I would do his work?" asked a bitter Nick.

"Yeah, he did. He acted like he was proud of it."

"Little fucker," cursed Nick. "Pete had to tell me himself the asshole was just fucking using me. And before we left Shaffer's, he told me I couldn't let that happen again."

"So, you thought Pete wanted you to lock me in the shed?"

"I figured he wouldn't want me to take the chance, especially after you pulled a gun on me, but he blew up on me about it," recalled a frustrated Nick. "And then Bill said he was killing people out there, and…" Nick shook his head. "Fuck, I don't know what to think anymore."

"Well, even when Bill told the truth, he was still kinda lying," reasoned Clem. "If Pete was killing people, it was probably because him or George were making him."

"Good riddance to both those fuckers."

"And, I think Pete didn't like doing stuff like that. When I asked him if he would stop helping me and Christa, he said he was done living like that."

Nick sighed. "The day he brought that poor one-eyed boy back to Shaffer's…" Nick shook his head. "Pete just looked more and more guilty every time someone told him what a good thing he did by saving that kid, and that was before they put him in the pen."

"Maybe that's why he got mad at you for locking me in the shed," reasoned Clem. "Because he was mad at what he did, and he didn't want you to do stuff like that."

"Huh…" Nick paused, pondering what Clem said.

"I know you loved him Nick, but I think even Pete didn't know what to do all of the time. I don't think anyone does really."

Nick looked up at Clementine. "How old are you again?"

"Nine and a half."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're really smart for a nine-year-old?"

"Actually, both Christa and Sarah said I'm smart."

"Well, I guess I make three then." Clementine smiled at Nick, who smirked for a second, before looking up. "Here comes company." Clem looked back and noticed Sarah and Christa approaching.

"I'm still worried he looks underweight," commented Christa as she sat down to the left of Clementine, holding Omid Jr in her arms, who was tightly wrapped in Sarah's jacket. "Those last few weeks before we left the cabin, we just didn't have much to eat."

"Well, can't you feed him more now, so he'll gain weight?" asked Sarah as she sat down to the right of Clementine.

"It'll be months before he can have anything other than breast milk," said Christa. "Then once he gets to solid foods, I'll have to worry about allergies."

"What about you? Not allergic to pineapples are you?" asked Nick as he handed Christa a can with a spoon in it. Christa set the can between her legs while holding Omid Jr in one hand, then grabbed the spoon with the other. "Sarah, you mind corn?"

"That's fine." Nick handed Sarah a can. "What about you?"

"I'll have some of the soup when it's done," commented a tired Nick as he reached into one of the backpacks. "And a little of this." Nick pulled out a stout brown bottle. "I guess Pete was saving this for when we got out," mused Nick in a weak voice as he unscrewed the cap.

"Cheers." Nick took a swig from the bottle, then took a breath. "How bout it?" asked Nick as he offered the bottle to Christa.

"Can't," she answered.

"You're not pregnant anymore," noted Nick.

"Can't drink while you're breastfeeding either."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Alcohol can get to the baby through the milk."

"Damn. I didn't know that," said Nick. "What about those pain killers you took?"

"I don't know, they should've been safe to take," sighed Christa. "I'm more worried about him catching a cold or something worse. There really wouldn't be much we could do, now that we don't have hospitals anymore."

"That's why you didn't want me to touch him with my hands," realized Clem.

"Yeah, it takes a while for a baby to develop its immune system," explained Christa. "Before that happens, even a cold may kill a newborn."

"Really?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"Possibly," answered a concerned Christa.

"I… I shouldn't have gone near him," realized Clem.

"We didn't really have much of a choice at the time Clem," noted Christa.

"Well, I'll keep away from him now, at least until I'm better," assured Clem.

"And you can keep my jacket for as long as you need it," assured a concerned Sarah.

"Thanks girls," said Christa with a smile. "I really appreciate the help from the both of you."

"Don't suppose either of you want some?" Nick offered Sarah and Clem the bottle.

"Nick," said Christa in a concerned tone.

"Come on, everything they've been through, they probably could use a drink themselves."

Christa sighed. "All right, but just a little sip girls," she insisted. "Last thing we need is anyone getting drunk right now." Nick passed the bottle to Sarah, who just looked at it.

"And that goes for you too Nick. I appreciate you and Pete's supplies, but they're only going to take us so far, and we'll need to stay sharp until we can find some more."

"Actually, we've still got one last thing to pick up," noted Nick.

"We do?" asked Sarah. "I thought you and I got everything."

"We got the bags Pete left for us, but he also had something else stashed away on the far end of Springfield, where Shaffer's hasn't gotten a chance to clear out yet," explained Nick.

"What is it?" asked Clementine. "More food?"

"I think it's a truck," answered Nick.

"You think?" repeated Christa.

"Pete was real tight lipped about whatever it was. Guess he was worried I'd tell someone. But he told me there were keys in a dog house in the backyard of this house near the north end of town. So unless he left us the whole house, I figured it must be a truck."

"He really did plan ahead," noted Clem.

"How far is it?" asked Christa.

"A couple miles, but we'll have to go through town to reach it," explained Nick. "Shaffer's only just started working on Springfield about a month ago. So there's probably a lot of lurkers about, and even more now that the herd has passed through."

"Even more?" asked a nervous Sarah. "There were a lot on the way to get the bags, and there were a lot outside the church when we got back."

"Well, we can still cover our smell. That's worked so far." Sarah started sobbing upon hearing Nick say that. Clementine moved her chair to be closer to Sarah so she could put her arm around the older girl.

"It was the blood," explained a somber Clem.

"Huh?"

"On his leg, from killing Bill. That's why it happened." Sarah looked at Clem. Her eyes widened as she realized what Clem said, then she started tearing up again.

"Jesus," Nick said to himself in a quiet voice. "Sarah, seriously, have a drink. It'll help."

"It… it will?" asked a choked Sarah.

"Yeah, why don't you go on," suggested Christa. "Just, take it easy." Sarah looked at the bottle, then lifted it to her lips. She took a tiny sip, then hastily put the bottle down, noticeably grimacing as she swallowed.

"Come on, it's not that bad," insisted Nick.

"It's not that, it hurts for me to swallow," explained Sarah.

"Because of what Bill did to you." Sarah nodded at Christa, who looked away in shame.

"It's getting a little easier though." Sarah handed the bottle to Clementine, who just looked at it.

"What's it taste like?" asked Clem.

"Sorta like cough syrup, except way more bitter and warm."

"It's warm?"

"It tastes warm."

"How can it taste warm?"

"Just try it."

"Hang on, I'm sick, so let me get a cup first." Clementine picked up the mug nearest to her.

"Here, let me pour it," insisted Christa as she took the bottle. "It's not like water or juice. Little bit of…" Christa looked at the label. "Whiskey, again. Little bit goes a long way." Clem held out her mug and Christa poured a very tiny amount of liquid in the cup.

"That's it?" asked Clementine.

"Pete found us some good stuff," assured Nick. "We'll want to save some for later."

"And you don't weigh much, which means just a tiny bit will do the trick." Clementine shrugged and sipped the cup. The liquid did indeed taste warm, almost like it was burning, and it did have a cough syrup flavor, except 'way more bitter' may have been an understatement. Clem grimaced as she felt the substance move into her stomach. She hastily reached for a bottle and took a long swig of water.

"Ugh," commented Clem as she set the water down. "Why would you drink that?"

"Give it a minute," assured Nick as Christa handed the bottle back. "Then you'll know why." Nick took another swig from the bottle.

"Nick…"

"Take it easy mom. I'm putting it away." Christa grimaced at Nick's comment, then she looked down at Omid Jr and chuckled slightly. Nick screwed the cap back onto the bottle and placed it into a bag. He sighed to himself, then looked out at the rest of the group, sitting around the fire with a mutual look of confusion.

"Jesus," whispered Nick. "How the fuck did we get here?"


	81. Regrets

"A couple of weeks ago, I was arguing with Omid about what we should do next," reminisced a melancholy Christa as she stirred her spoon in the can of pineapples sitting in her lap. "Now I'm here with his son, and not him, out in some church I'd never heard of."

"Back when we lived in the cabin, he'd come by in the morning and knock on my door sometimes," spoke Clementine. "Usually he was just telling me it's time for breakfast, but other times he'd say something funny. I didn't always get it, but it always made me feel a little better."

"Which ones didn't you get?" asked Christa.

"One time he knocked and said 'turndown service', and I didn't understand."

"Turndown service is just when the maid at a hotel comes in to make the bed and change out the towels and all that stuff," explained Christa. "He was playing with you, pretending he was the cabin's maid or something."

"I'd never answer him and…" Clem felt herself tearing up. "I wish I had. He always made me feel better but, I was so sad I didn't even want to get out of bed most of the time."

"You know what I wish? I wished I never pulled that trigger in the first place," confessed Nick. "Then you could have just told him that in person."

"Yeah," commented a forlorn Christa. "Unless something else happened to him between then and now." Sarah started weeping softly into her hands.

"I… I never killed anyone before that," admitted a shaken Nick.

"I never killed anyone before leaving Shaffer's," added Christa before eating a spoonful of canned pineapple.

"You hadn't?" asked Clem.

"Could have fooled me," said Nick.

"I guess Pete was right, I was ready to start." Christa turned to Clem. "And I'm guessing after this Matt thing, you're ready to start as well." Christa sighed. "Clem—"

"I already started," said Clem in a quiet, pained voice.

"What?" Christa went wide-eyed in shock.

"Who did you kill?" Sarah started whimpering in response to Nick's question. "Oh, shit." Clem put her arm around Sarah.

"It was the same with Lee," informed a tearful Clem. "He was bitten, and dying, and it was the only thing I could do for him."

"Who's Lee?" asked Nick.

"He was the man who was taking care of her, before Omid an I met her," informed Christa.

"Jesus," spoke a horrified Nick. "I… I couldn't do it."

"Do… do what?" asked Sarah.

"My mom," said Nick. "She got bitten, right when all this started. When she… changed into one of those things, I didn't know what to do. I kept thinking, there had to be some way to help her. A cure, or something…" Nick trailed off.

"Is that why you don't like getting near walkers?" asked Clem.

"It's not so much being close to them as killing them up close I hate doing," clarified Nick. "Shooting them from far away, you can't see their faces that well. But up close, I always just think, this one used to be someone's mom, or dad, or son, or daughter, or whatever."

"My mom and dad are walkers," whimpered Clementine. "I… I hated seeing them like that."

"Pete hated seeing my mom, his sister, like that," spoke Nick. "He came after me and her the next day. I told him there had to be a way to help her, but Pete told me there wasn't. He said he'd seen other ones ripped apart and they still wouldn't die until you took out the head.

"Then he said she was already gone, and the only thing we could do was put an end to what she had turned into. He asked if I wanted to be the one to do it. To… give her peace. And I just couldn't do it," confessed Nick in a pitiful voice. "So, he did, and I could tell he hated it every bit as much as I did, but he did it."

"I… I hated doing it too. It was the worst thing I ever had to do," whimpered Clem. "But… at least Lee isn't walker, I guess."

"I… I think I would have hated it even worse if my dad was a lurker right now. But…" Sarah started weeping again. The older girl hastily forced a couple of spoonfuls of food into her mouth, but even a mouthful of corn did little to stifle her cries.

"I'm so sorry girls." Christa turned to Nick. "And I'm sorry about your mother."

"Me too," added a despondent Sarah.

"It was ages ago, but still…" Nick trailed off.

"And I'm sorry you had to do that Clementine," professed Christa.

"So am I," said Clem.

"Hopefully, you won't ever have to do something like that again."

"Actually…" Clementine suddenly found it hard to speak. "I… I killed one other person." Everyone turned to Clementine in surprise.

"Who?" asked Christa.

"The man on the radio."

"What?" asked Nick.

"The man who lied to you about finding your parents and kidnapped you?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"Yeah…" A stunned silence followed Clementine's admission. "He was on top of Lee, trying to choke him, and I had the gun and I thought if I didn't do something, he'd kill Lee and…" Clementine went quiet. "I… I killed him." Christa leaned over and put her free arm around Clem.

"Jesus that's fucked up," commented a disturbed Nick.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry," consoled Christa.

"You… you really did do everything you could to get away," said Sarah. "I… I guess I'm the only one who hasn't killed someone."

"It's good that you haven't," said Clem in a quiet voice.

"Is it?" asked Sarah. "I keep thinking things would have been better if I had just shot George when Pete told me to."

"Maybe, but it wouldn't help you," insisted Clem. "Even though he was a bad man, I've felt different ever since I shot him."

"How?" asked Sarah.

"I don't know, it's like, it's a little easier, for me to do bad things," confessed a conflicted Clem. "Like, when I aimed my gun at you Nick."

Nick looked at Clementine. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean," said Nick in a quiet voice. "The entire time Pete and I were burying your guy, I kept wishing I could just take it back. When I shot Greg, I was wishing I didn't have to do it. But now…" A hate filled expression crept across Nick's face. "I'm wishing there had been enough time for me to kill George… and Byron."

"Nick…" Sarah looked at the young man, clearly bothered by what he said. "Don't… don't say that."

"It's how I feel. Maybe I shouldn't, but it's how I feel."

"I was going to just let Matt die," admitted Clementine. "And, I don't even feel that bad about it."

"I feel bad about saving him," added a bitter Nick. "Now I want nothing more than to make that little bastard pay."

"Me too," added an equally bitter Clem.

"I know what that's like," commented Christa in a sober tone.

"Yeah, you probably feel like that about me," said Nick.

"I did," admitted Christa. "And if I had done something about it, I'd been screwed right now, because there's no way I would have gotten here without your help." Nick looked at Christa, seeing the sincerity in her eyes, then looked away, unsure what to think. "I know what it feels like, but it's not going to do you any good."

"That's not true," said Clem. "You said you only shot Consuelo because you wanted to, and we wouldn't have gotten out if you hadn't of done that."

"And I wasn't supposed to give you that gun," added a guilt-ridden Sarah. "That was wrong, but if I hadn't taken it, I'd be dead right now."

"And if I hadn't let that little shit Matt live, you and I wouldn't have had to go ten miles with nothing but a crowbar to protect ourselves."

"And if I hadn't fucked up everything in the first place, we wouldn't have had to do any of that shit," dictated an upset Christa. "Remember what I told you Clem, about how you can be right for the wrong reasons?"

"I remember," said an apprehensive Clem. "But, things are so bad, it seems like doing things for the right reasons usually ends up being wrong."

"And you can be wrong for the wrong reasons too," insisted Christa in a stern tone. "We all know how fucked up things are, and I've always told you how important it is to be careful, but I don't want you getting it in your head that you should never take a chance on doing the right thing again, because you can still be right for the right reasons."

"Like when?" asked a dreary Clem.

"Like when Omid took a chance on the overpass that day," reminded Christa. "If he had listened to me, you and I wouldn't even be together right now."

"Yeah, we wouldn't," conceded Clementine as she turned away from Christa in shame. Looking up, she found Sarah hovering over her, a worried look on her face. "And, if you hadn't gotten me that first aid kit that night, I might not be here right now."

"And I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," professed a grateful Sarah. "And Pete helped us all by getting us this stuff."

"I just wish he could have made it here with us." Nick turned to Clementine. "I can't help but think if I hadn't shot the lurker attacking you at the lodge, maybe I could have gotten George. But then I heard you screaming, and…"

"I don't think Pete would blame you for saving a little girl's life," assured Christa in a sympathetic tone.

"I don't know." Nick shook his head. "He told me making the right call means you can't always do the right thing. I can't help but wonder if that was one of those times."

"Even if it was, I'm not sure Pete would want you to let me die to save him," said Clem. "He told me he would forget how to do the right thing if he didn't try again soon."

"When did he say that?" asked Nick.

"On the river."

"Again?" asked Nick in disbelief. "Jesus, he tell you anything else while I wasn't around?"

"Back at the cabin, he said he shouldn't have told you being nice won't keep you alive so many times."

"He… he did?"

"Sounds like he had regrets of his own." Christa turned to Clementine. "That's one more reason I don't want you to just give up on people altogether. That regret can eat away at you."

"Yeah. I can't even look at your kid without thinking it's my fault he doesn't have a father," admitted Nick as he turned away from Christa and Omid Jr.

"If… if I had shot you," spoke a shaken Clem to Nick. "We wouldn't even have anything to eat right now."

"Only because I wouldn't tell any of you where Pete stashed his supplies." Nick turned to Christa. "You were right. It was stupid to keep it to myself."

"Yeah, but I'd probably have done the same," confessed Christa. "I can't stop thinking about how we were just walk away from Walter and Matthew's place the entire time we lived in that cabin. We could have been a lot better off if I had just been willing to take a chance on someone."

"They took a chance with us," noted Nick. "And they got fucked over by Shaffer's."

"I told Walter I was sorry about that, and he said he had no regrets about helping us," added Clementine in a hopeful tone.

"And he said that night we had dinner with him was better than all the stuff he had in the lodge," added Sarah.

"That really was a great night," spoke Nick, sounding nostalgic. "Maybe if it had just been Pete outside instead of me, like he wanted, he could have done more to stop them. Or if I hadn't shot that lurker so close to their place before we got there."

"I keep feeling like if I had never told Bill about the guns, we could have gotten away then," whimpered Sarah. "Then there be no herd to…" Sarah started crying.

"Your dad told me not tell you," sniveled Clem. "If I had listened—"

"Stop it, just stop it!" Everyone turned to Christa, a clear look of frustration on her face. "We could go back and forth all goddamn night about what we shouldn't have done and should have done, but you know what I say? Fuck it!

"There's no taking any of it back, and we're all still here. And we all want to stay alive, right?" Christa's question was answered with nods from the group, some more reluctant than others. "Then I say it's time to move on. Once we're done eating, we'll get this truck or whatever, get the hell out of here, and find somewhere to start over. All four of us." Christa looked down at Omid Jr. "I mean, the five of us."

"I'd drink to that, but you already said I had enough," smirked Nick.

"What about the soup?" asked Christa. "It smells like it's ready."

"Oh yeah." Nick stood up. "We don't have any bowls, but—"

"Wait, we've got some bowls," informed Sarah.

"We do?" asked Nick.

"Yeah," answered Clem as she picked up her own backpack. "I found some in a house we had to stay in." Clementine removed the bowls from the backpack. "It was one of the only things left there."

"Pete said after a while, Hector started giving the crew lists of things to not take, because we already had so many of them." Nick took the bowls. "Any of you ever take out the trash when we were there?" Everyone shook their heads. "Should've seen the parking lot behind the yard. They turned it into a dump with all the extra shit we had no room for."

"Leave it to Shaffer's turn other people's treasure into their trash heap," quipped Christa.


	82. Prospects

Clementine watched as Nick started spooning chicken soup into a bowl. She didn't know why, but she felt good. There was a kind of warmth in her stomach and for some reason her head felt light, but in a good way that made her feel relaxed.

Turning away from Nick, Clem found Sarah in front of her. Looking at her shirt, she noticed that most of the bottom of it was missing, which allowed Clem to see Sarah's stomach, which she found oddly fascinating.

"Clem," asked Sarah. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," assured Clem in a calm voice.

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"I was just wondering because you were staring at me."

"Your belly button is really cute," giggled Clementine.

"Um… thanks?" answered a confused Sarah.

"Okay Clem, you definitely need something to eat." Christa handed Clem a bowl of soup.

"Actually, I feel really good right now," assured the girl.

"I'm sure you do, you sound drunk," noted a concerned Christa. "So eat some soup to even yourself out."

"Okay," shrugged an agreeable Clem as she reached for a spoon.

"Didn't I tell you?" smirked Nick. "In a minute you'd know why you drank it?"

"Oh yeah, you did," noted an amused Clem. "If I drank more, would I feel even better?"

"You drink any more and you'd probably feel sick," insisted Christa. "So please, just eat."

"All right, I was just was wondering." Clementine slurped a spoonful of soup. Feeling the warm broth move down her sore throat was very soothing. No sooner had she finished her first spoonful than had Clem swallowed another.

"I really don't feel much," spoke Sarah as she took her bowl of soup.

"Maybe you should have a little more," suggested Nick as he handed Christa a bowl.

"No," dictated Christa.

"Why not?" asked Clementine. "Sarah should get to feel good too."

"Not everything that stuff does is gonna make you feel good, and it certainly doesn't make you act any smarter," explained Christa. "And we've got to get moving once we're done eating."

"Okay, but what about if we get somewhere safer? Could we have more then?" Clem asked in an eager voice.

"You see what you started?" Christa asked Nick. "You've turned the girl into an alcoholic."

"She'll be fine, Pete used to give me a shot of whiskey on some of my birthdays and I turned out okay." Christa glared at Nick, clearly not finding any comfort from that tidbit. "Relax, I'll keep it put up."

"So, what do we do once we find the truck?" asked Sarah before gently blowing on the hot soup.

"Well, we got to go up a road that turns into the one-nineteen, which leads back to South Carolina. Pete figured we could use that to get some distance from Shaffer's," explained Nick as he poured what was left of the soup into a bowl.

"So, we're going to South Carolina?" asked Clem. "What's there?"

"Well, nothing in Hardeeville anymore," noted Nick with a hint of sadness. "But the rest of the state, I don't know." Nick grabbed a spoon and eagerly dipped into his soup.

"Really at this point, just picking a direction is as good a guess as any," suggested Christa as she adjusted her grip on Omid Jr. "Really don't think going back to nature again would work out, at least not right now. Maybe if we found somewhere we could catch our breath, we could gradually wean ourselves off scavenging, sorta like Walter and Matthew said they were doing," she said before slurping some warm chicken broth.

"Actually, I've been thinking a lot about what Walter said, about how we don't really know what the rest of the world is like," said Nick in-between swallowing bits of his meal. "And seeing as we can just walk past the dead now, I was thinking we should go west."

"I thought you said we were going to South Carolina?" asked Sarah as she carefully fished some noodles out of her bowl.

"Well, we can still do that, take some time to get our shit together, but afterwards, I was thinking we just start moving across the country. See if there's anywhere safe out there," suggested Nick.

"I mean, Shaffer's couldn't have been the only place that figured out how to deal with the dead; they didn't even know this smell trick Clementine figured out. So there's got to be other places in the world that know what they're doing. Maybe there's even still a few cities where they got things under control."

"It would be nice to see home again, even if it's probably a disaster area like everywhere else," mused Christa before swallowing another spoonful of soup.

"Where ya from?" asked Nick as he chewed a piece of chicken.

"San Francisco."

"Really?" asked Nick. "How the hell did you get out here?"

"That's was Omid's doing," noted Christa with a hint of sadness. "He really had a thing for Civil War history for some reason, and he loved the idea of a road trip."

"I'd like to go somewhere with warmer winters. I'm sick of being cold all the time," commented Clementine as she scooped the last bit of warm succulence from the bottom of her bowl. "I think Kenny said he was from Florida. It's warm there right?"

"Probably, but Florida also gets hit by hurricanes a lot too," noted Christa with a smirk.

"Well, we might have to grow our own food at some point right?" reasoned Sarah. "Maybe we should go somewhere where there's lots of farms. Like Kansas or something?"

"Which is famous for its tornadoes as well," noted a glib Christa.

"What about Wyoming?" suggested Nick in an offhand manner. "There was barely anyone there before the dead came back. Can't be many lurkers then."

"Isn't that up north?" asked Clem. "Wouldn't it be really cold?"

"Plus, there was almost nobody there because there was nothing people wanted in Wyoming," quipped Christa. "I doubt that's changed much."

"Well where do you wanna go?" asked Nick.

"Call it personal bias, but I still like the idea of getting back to California," said Christa.

"But, I thought you didn't want to go into any big cities after Savannah?" asked Clementine.

"I don't," affirmed Christa. "But there's a lot of rural farmland outside the big cities, especially up north, and the weather is nice all year round. That's a big plus."

"Dr. Bostwick said something about the weather and growing food," recalled Sarah. "I'm not sure what because she was yelling it."

"I remember," said Clem. "You asked why the weather is so important and she said 'Go ask the Mayans why the weather is so important. Oh that's right, you can't! A drought wiped out their entire empire!" exclaimed Clem, trying to imitate Dr. Bostwick's accent.

"Yeah, I think that's what she said," commented Sarah, less enthusiastic about recalling the doctor's advice.

"I had a neighbor back home who said she was Mayan," commented Christa. "Never asked her about her empire though, she said she was from Guatemala."

"Where's that?" asked Clem.

"Somewhere in Central America, I think," answered Christa. "It's real far."

"So's California," noted Nick.

"Too bad we can't go back to Shaffer's," spoke an uneasy Sarah.

"Pretty sure we burnt that bridge," noted Christa in a somber tone.

"Would have been nice if we could have gotten rid of George and Bill without getting everyone else killed," said Nick, sounding more than a little guilty. "Although, if they're all gone—"

"They're not," informed Clem. "Some of them are still alive."

"How could you possibly know that?" asked Nick.

"We heard them on Clem's radio," answered Sarah.

"Shit, they might come after us then," realized Nick. "Like they did before."

"Or right now…" Clementine looked to Christa, who had the same shocked look on her face. "Oh shit."

"Wait, what happened?"

"Someone tried to get into the basement, while you were gone," informed Christa.

"What?" asked a wide-eyed Nick. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I forgot," answered Clem.

"You forgot?" repeated a frustrated Nick.

"She had to help deliver Junior right after that," retorted Christa in a harsh tone. "So yeah, it managed to slip our minds."

"I went up and looked around, but I didn't find anyone, or even any walkers," informed Clem. "But, it's a really big church."

"So, they could still be here, right now?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"Oh fuck, this is all we need," said Nick, sounding on the verge of panic.

"Everybody calm down!" Omid Jr started crying in response to Christa's harsh order. "Clem, you still got your radio?" Clem nodded while Christa tried to comfort Omid Jr. "Get it and turn it on. Maybe we can listen in on them." Clementine retrieved her radio and switched it on. She turned the volume knob up as high as it would go and held it out.

"You sure you got the right channel?" commented Nick as he looked at the radio anxiously.

"It's the same one it was on earlier when we heard them."

"Maybe they switched channels. Or maybe—"

"It was the smell," crackled a voice from the radio

"Byron," recognized an eager Sarah. "He's still alive."

"That's how they got out of here," spoke Byron "And it's the only reason I got back."

"They know how to get past the walkers now," realized Clem.

"And it's how we're going to track down the fuckers who gutted my baby girl," spoke a seething Gertrude.

"Poor Bridget…" mourned a saddened Sarah.

"I'll butcher every last one of them with my bare goddamn hands if I have to," promised Gertrude.

"I… I guess it's a good thing we didn't call them," realized Sarah, visibly disturbed by Gertrude's vicious declaration.

"We'll find them," assured Byron. "Like hell if I'm gonna let them lie in wait for another chance to kill more of us."

"I should have shot that asshole when I had the chance," sneered a vindictive Nick.

"Instead of George?" asked Christa. "Think I'd rather take my chances with Byron."

"Well this time—"

"Bring 'em back alive!" Everyone looked at the radio in shock as they heard George's voice. "You hear me? Alive!"

"No… no fucking way!" exclaimed a horrified Nick. "There's no way he's still alive!"

"And if they're dead, bring them back in as few pieces as you can. I got—ah!" Everyone listened as George groaned in pain, making anguished cries as he struggled to say something.

"Doesn't sound like he'll be alive much longer," commented Christa in a cold voice.

"Springfield!" shouted an anguished George. "Bill said Pete—ahh! Must've stashed… something… up there."

"It's probably somewhere outside the areas we've already cleared," surmised Byron. "Pete scouted a lot of the north side of town, so—" Christa switched the radio off.

"That's our wake up call everyone," she said in a stern voice. "Let's get packed up and get out of here."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Nick immediately started packing his bag while Christa claimed the one nearest to her. Sarah and Clem started moving everything from the remaining bags into their own backpacks. Everyone quickly finished whatever little food they had left and tossed the bowls and spoons into their bags.

"Here," Sarah handed Clementine her raincoat.

"Thanks," said Clem as she put it on. "Christa, are you still covered in the walker stuff?"

"Yeah, we managed to stay out of the rain," said Christa as she unzipped the front of her jacket. "And if I keep him close, they shouldn't smell him either." Christa held Omid Jr close to her chest, taking great care to make sure he didn't touch her gore smeared jacket.

"Nick, do you want the machete?" offered Sarah.

"Keep it," insisted Nick as he picked up his crowbar. "You might need the edge. No pun intended." Sarah slipped the machete onto her back over her raincoat. "We're going to go north up Laurel Street until we reach the elementary school, it'll be on the right. Pete said turn right when you reach it, go past the school and to the end of the street and it'll be the house right in front of you. It's in the backyard under a tree."

"Any idea what it looks like?" asked Christa.

"He just told me I'd know it when I see it," answered Nick. "Keys are in the dog house in the same backyard. Once we get it, we'll drive back to Laurel Street and go north. Road turns northeast once it becomes the one-nineteen, so it should move us away from the herd, which I think were going more northwest."

"Once we get some distance, we should switch to back roads and look for somewhere small to find more supplies, maybe even to rest for a little while," added Christa.

"Do you feel good enough to walk?" Clem asked Christa as she put her backpack on.

"Those pain killers are making me feel pretty good," answered Christa as she tightened the jacket wrapped around Omid Jr. "What about you? Still got that good feeling?"

"Not really. It's mostly gone," answered Clem as she clipped the lantern to her belt.

"Good. You need to stay sharp."

"I don't know what the big deal was," said Clem. "I've had to do so many things little girls should never do. What does it matter if I want to try more of something that makes me feel good?"

"It's matters because alcohol doesn't just hurt babies Clem. Too much of it will hurt anyone, and bad," explained Christa in a stern voice. "And the smaller and younger you are, the less it takes to hurt you."

"Really?" asked a dubious Clementine.

"Yes really Clem," assured Christa. "You ever eat too much candy and get sick?"

"Yeah, the first time I went trick or treating. My mom told me not to eat too much, and… I didn't listen," admitted an embarrassed Clementine. "My stomach really hurt the next day."

"Alcohol hurts a lot worse than any candy if you have too much," explained Christa. "And because it makes you feel so good, it can be real easy to do too much, and then when it starts making you feel bad, you might want to do more to stop those bad feelings, and you'll make yourself even sicker."

"Oh wow," said Clementine as she processed what Christa said. "It's kinda like, a trap or something."

"It's called addiction," explained Christa. "It's real easy to get started and it's incredibly difficult to stop. That's why I don't want you getting started at all."

"Okay, I understand. I won't ever drink again." Christa looked at the disappointed Clementine, who appeared chastised before the older woman.

"Well… I didn't say you could never drink."

"But not until I'm older, right?"

"If on your birthdays, you wanna try a little bit, like tonight, I think that'd be okay."

"Really?"

"Just a little," repeated Christa. "And maybe when you're a little older, and I've weaned Junior, we could even have a drink together on special occasions sometimes."

"I think I'd like that."

"Yeah, me too," smiled Christa. "Omid used to say I was a completely different person after a few drinks."

"You two ready?" Clem looked up to see Nick standing over her, Sarah right behind him.

"Yeah," assured Christa as she stood up, bracing Omid Jr closely to her chest as she did so.

"Good, we really should—"

Shots rang out across the church.


	83. Nothing to Fear

Clementine instinctively dove for cover behind the nearest pew and pulled her gun. She flinched as she listened to the rapid series of small explosions. It sounded like some kind of machine gun. After about ten seconds of nonstop fire, the shots stopped.

Clem peeked out from cover, looking for any sign of the attacker. She didn't hear anything, other than Omid Jr crying loudly. She couldn't see anyone, but there seemed to be a charred black spot on the floor just ahead.

"Is anyone hit?" called an anxious Christa.

"I'm… I'm okay," stuttered a terrified Sarah.

"Stay down!" warned Nick. "There might be more." Clem ignored Nick's warning and inched towards the black spot on the floor.

"Clementine!" called Christa. "Get back here!" Kneeling down, she looked at the black spot. There were shredded pieces of red paper scattered around a burn mark on the floor.

"Clementine!" Clem looked over her shoulder to find Sarah trying to pull her by the arm. "Come on!"

"It's okay," assured Clem. "It wasn't a gun."

"What?" asked Nick as he stood up. "Then what was it?"

"I think it was firecrackers."

"Firecrackers?" repeated Christa as she tried to stop Omid Jr from crying.

"Where the hell did they come from?" asked Nick as he moved to Sarah and Clem.

"Why firecrackers?" Sarah's question was answered by a chorus of uneven moans and the sound of shuffling footsteps. Clementine turned on the lantern hanging from her belt, and discovered a plethora of walkers lurching towards them.

"Oh shit…" mumbled Nick.

"I… I thought the front door was locked," stuttered Sarah.

"It was!" announced Clem.

"Well we ain't using the front door." Nick spun around and moved past the fire pit to the metal door that Clem examined earlier. He tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn't move. "The fuck? Why's this locked!" Nick rammed the door with his shoulder, but nothing happened.

"We're trapped!" realized a horrified Sarah. "They trapped us!"

"It's okay," insisted Clem. "We can just walk past them if we're quiet." Clementine's suggestion was undermined by Omid Jr's crying.

"That's a big if," noted an alarmed Nick. "Can you get him to stop?"

"I'm trying," answered Christa as she cradled her son in a desperate attempt to calm him.

"Then I guess I'll keep trying the door." Nick took his crowbar and jammed it into the side of the door, trying to force it into a seam.

"We… we'll slow them down," announced Clementine.

"We will?" asked a confused Sarah.

"We gotta try!" Sarah looked over at Christa as she tried to placate the still screeching baby, then turned back to Clementine.

"I… I'll try." Sarah drew the machete from her back while Clementine pocketed her tomahawk's sheath. Clementine moved down the aisle, Sarah reluctantly following after her. The pair stopped as they reached the nearest walker, staggering towards the sound of a crying baby.

"Remember, just focus on the leg," whispered Clementine as Sarah tightened her grip on the machete. "He can't smell you, so he doesn't even know you're here."

Clem inched out of the way as the older girl arched the machete back. Sarah swung for the walker's ankle, slicing into its rotted tendons. It fell onto its side and Clem immediately drove the tomahawk's spike into its skull. The walker made one minor convulsion, then lay dead.

"We… we did it," realized a stunned Sarah.

"Yeah, but now…" Looking down the narrow aisle, Clementine saw nearly a dozen more walkers shuffling towards them. And looking left and right, she saw even more moving past them through the other aisles.

"Oh shit…" Clem and Sarah raced back towards Christa and Nick.

"There's too many, and they're all over the place," informed Clem as she reached the pair.

"What about the door?" asked Sarah.

"I'm trying," grumbled Nick through gritted teeth as he pulled on his crowbar.

"Come on now," pleaded Christa as she rocked Omid Jr in her arms. "How many bullets do you have left?"

"Only four," answered Clem.

"There's a lot more than four of them," noted an alarmed Sarah.

"Shh. It's okay. It's okay." Clementine watched as Omid Jr seemed to finally settle, going from crying to whimpering slightly. Turning back Clem saw the walkers growing nearer.

"We need to go, now," ordered Clem.

"I'm working on it," growled an exhausted Nick.

"No, out the front door."

"What?" We—"

"We still smell like them, we just gotta be quiet," instructed Clem.

"If he starts crying again—"

"If we don't go now then it'll be too late," stressed an anxious Clem as she looked back at the crowd of dead bearing down on them. "They're going to keep moving and they'll attack where the noise came from. We need to get out of the way, right now!"

Nick pulled his crowbar out of the door. "I'm not getting through that anytime soon," he announced.

"Come on!" Clementine led everyone away from the door and towards the opposite corner of the altar. The group watched nervously as walkers stumbled into the area. As Clem predicted, they gravitated to where they heard Omid Jr crying a moment ago, swatting at the air almost comically as they reached the spot, then stopping after finding nothing.

"Stay close to the wall," whispered Clem as she started moving towards the front entrance. "And be ready if he cries." The group started inching away from the growing group of walkers and the outermost aisle. They pressed themselves up against the wall and started inching towards the front.

Lingering walkers occasionally moved through the aisle, causing everyone to tense up as they passed. About half way towards the door, Omid Jr started murmuring softly. Clem, Sarah and Nick all tightened their grip on their weapons, and Christa started moving her hand up and down his back while making shushing noises.

Everyone kept moving forward at a slow pace, going past a couple of more walkers and into the reception area. Seeing all three front doors wide open, Clem cursed herself for not finding the intruder earlier.

Very slowly, the group zigged and zagged through the oncoming walkers, Christa gripping her son as tightly as she could while still leaving him enough room to breathe. Through the doors, Clem could see even more walkers trying to navigate the parking lot in their efforts to reach the church.

Crossing past the front doors, Clem immediately moved out of the path of the incoming dead. Turning around she saw Sarah emerge next, then Nick. Clem watched anxiously for Christa, almost tempted to call to her, but then saw the woman and her baby emerge.

"Where to?" whispered Christa as she joined the others.

"Follow me." Nick led everyone out of the church and back onto the road. They moved to an intersection, where Nick stopped.

"Now what?" whispered Christa.

"Um, Pete said take McCall north until the road ends, go right, and over the railroad tracks. That'll put us on Laurel Street."

"Which way is north?" asked Sarah.

"I… I don't know," said Nick. "I got kinda turned around on our way out."

"Nick." Clem offered the young man her compass. "North, right?"

"Yeah, that's this way." Nick turned and found a road stretched out in front of him. "So this must be McCall. Pete says they mostly cleared out the houses on it, so there shouldn't be many lurkers."

"The less the better," commented a nervous Christa.

"Let's get going." Clementine pocketed her compass and started moving with the others down the road.

"Good thinking back there Clem," complimented a still nervous Christa. "That… that was…"

"I'm just glad we all got out," spoke a stressed Clem.

"Those fuckers from Shaffer's," swore Nick. "They just never stop."

"You think it was them?" asked Sarah.

"Who else?" growled Nick.

"But we heard them on the radio, they haven't even left yet," reminded Sarah.

"Maybe… maybe one of them went out ahead of the others," reasoned Nick. "They used fireworks to bring them down on us."

"And yet there wasn't anyone waiting for us outside," noted Christa.

"It's gotta be Matt," accused a bitter Clementine. "Tom taught all of us about the fireworks."

"If it's him, why he'd let me and Nick go earlier?" asked Christa.

"Maybe the asshole wanted to follow us, to get what Pete left behind," reasoned Nick.

"Then why the fireworks nonsense?" asked Christa. "He had Bill's gun last we saw. He could have just shot us."

"He's a lousy shot," noted an angry Clem.

"Maybe he's following us to the truck." Nick turned around and looked behind them, then started eyeing the sides of the road. "Turn off that light. That's just making us easier to spot." Clem switched the lantern off.

"If he's following us, then why try to kill us now?" asked Christa. "If we died back there he never would have found the damn truck."

"I don't fucking know!" answered an aggravated Nick.

"Quiet!" ordered Clementine in a hushed voice.

"Can… can we just hurry and get to the truck?" pleaded a shaken Sarah. "Once we get it, we can just drive away, and then whoever it is can't follow us, right?"

"She's right," said Christa. "Doesn't matter who it was, let's just get what we came for and get the fuck out of Dodge already."


	84. Laurel Street

Everyone moved forward along the road at a brisk pace, tense and paranoid about what awaited them. As they walked, Clementine couldn't stop thinking about whoever was in the church with them. Someone opened the front doors and locked the back door. And someone lit those firecrackers and threw them inside. They set a trap, and without anyone noticing until it was sprung.

Despite what Christa said about it not mattering, Clementine couldn't stop herself from wondering. There were a lot of people at Shaffer's, and Clem knew that at least some of them survived, but she couldn't really think which one of them would bother following them this far out without some backup. Really the only person Clem could think of was Matt. He heard Nick's instructions on how to get to Saint Christopher's. He knew about using fireworks to draw walkers. And trying to kill her and everyone else sounded like the kind of thing he would try.

Moving along McCall Road felt more unnerving with every step. All the trees blocked out a lot of moonlight and Clem could hear walkers moving about and moaning in the distance, but she could rarely see them. The darkness also made it hard to see if there was anyone following them, which worried Clem more than walkers right now.

Reaching the end of McCall Road, Nick turned right and everyone followed his lead. With each passing step, the sounds of groaning undead and aimless shuffling grew louder. Looking around, Clementine could see some walkers moving about in the yards of the nearby houses, but not nearly as many as she could hear.

Reaching the end of the road, the group stepped over a pair of railroad tracks and started moving through a parking lot. Nick started cutting across the lot and headed towards an intersection Clem could see in the distance. Clem watched as Nick moved to the center of the intersection, then just stopped.

"What is it?" whispered Clem as she reached Nick. "Why…" Clementine looked out at the street in front of them, and could see walkers. Everywhere she looked, she could find at least one idling about. Roaming across the street, wandering by the buildings, or just waiting for something to come to them. They were spread out all over the place, rarely more than two near each other, but that did little to ease Clem's mind.

"Please tell me this isn't Laurel Street." Nick answered Christa's question by pointing to the traffic light over the intersection. The sign beside the lights read 'Laurel Street.' "Fuck."

"And north is that way." Clementine put her compass away and pointed right down the center of the road.

"Maybe we could go around?" whispered a nervous Sarah.

"There's probably plenty more all over town," said Nick. "Like I said, Shaffer's hasn't cleared out Springfield yet, and the herd just passed through."

"Fastest way between two places is a straight line," stated a determined Christa. "How far is the school we're looking for?"

"I'm not sure," said Nick. "But I don't think it's a big town."

"How can you be sure?" asked Clem.

"Well, looking at the signs, there's city hall." Nick pointed to a modest brick building with three storefronts on it. The top of the building read 'City of Springfield' and the nearest front had the lettering 'City Hall' above it. The one farthest away said 'Police Dept.' "Can't imagine a town that has the police department and city hall in a building that small being all that big."

"Let's just get this over with." Christa started marching forward, the others following in her footsteps. Nick gripped his crowbar as he positioned himself ahead of Christa while Clem found herself with Sarah right behind Christa. The girls watched the sides of the road, their weapons in hand, trying to ready themselves for something they both hoped wouldn't happen.

Advancing down Laurel Street, slowly negotiating past wayward walkers as they roamed about, Clementine felt like she was back in Savannah, trying to leave the Marsh House with Lee by her side. Every step was nerve-racking and a gruesome death was just a heartbeat away.

Looking to Christa, Clem couldn't ignore the frightened look on her face. Clementine rarely saw Christa so scared, but seeing the woman clutch Omid Jr to her chest made it obvious why she was afraid. Looking at the tiny baby, Clem found herself growing more frightened herself. It was like they were carrying a time bomb with them, it going off being a matter of when instead of if. Another fit and the walkers would descend upon them.

Yet despite the imminent danger, Clementine found the thought of a walker eating Omid Jr far more disturbing. Seeing Christa so carefully cradle her son in her arms just made him appear that much more precious. Clem recalled all the times she wondered if she'd ever get to grow up, and now found herself pondering the possibilities of Omid Jr growing up.

He'd never know a time in which people didn't come back from the dead, like she did. Clean water running right to your home and plentiful food everywhere would sound like fairy tales to him. And something like electricity might be inconceivable to him. Just thinking about it herself, Clem wouldn't even know how to describe it if someone asked her to.

Then Clem found herself thinking about what Omid, the first Omid, had told her about being a big sister to Omid Jr. About how you're supposed to talk to babies, and read to them, and play with them. She found these thoughts comforting, encouraging even. Clem's mind turned to what would happen after they left Springfield.

She started contemplating what would happen after Omid Jr was old enough to talk. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? What would she tell him if something dangerous happened and he didn't understand? What if something dangerous happened, and there was nothing Clem could do about it?

Finding this line of thought overwhelming, Clementine forced herself to focus on the present, turning her attention to her surroundings in search of danger as the group moved down Laurel Street. There were walkers scattered about, but none in the immediate area, and everyone seemed alert.

As they moved deeper into town, Clementine felt herself becoming less anxious and becoming more eager about the future. The thought of leaving Shaffer's, the Cabin and Savannah far behind and beginning anew felt very liberating to the small girl. She was almost excited for the future, but then she noticed something sparkling in the middle of the road.

"Is that…" Nick grabbed the firecrackers off the ground and tried to throw them, only for the first of them to explode in his hand. Nick reeled backwards, his hand bleeding while the rest of the firecrackers continued to explode. Clementine found herself instinctively backing away from the noise, but then noticed a walker moving past her.

Clem swung her tomahawk at the walker's leg, bringing the axe head down on his shin. It fell onto the pavement and Clem quickly flipped the tomahawk around in her hands and drove the knife edge into the walker's skull. As the firecrackers finally stopped, Clem heard Sarah let out a surprised yelp.

Turning her head, she saw a terrified Sarah standing before an approaching walker, her machete shaking in her hand. Clementine ran towards her, ready to down the walker, when Sarah swung her machete into the walker's leg. The walker tumbled onto the pavement and Clem quickly drove the tomahawk down into its head, finishing it.

The girls then heard Omid Jr crying and spotted Christa backing away from a pair of approaching walkers. The woman desperately tried to comfort her son while Clem and Sarah raced towards her, weapons at the ready. Nick suddenly emerged from behind the walkers, hastily kneecapping them both with his crowbar and allowing the girls to easily stab them in the heads.

"Run!" Everyone heeded Nick's order and started running down Laurel Street. They didn't get far before another cluster of walkers stood between them and a still crying Omid Jr. Nick immediately went for their legs with the crowbar, quickly downing another two. He stabbed the flat end of the crowbar into one of their skulls while Sarah killed the other.

"Behind us!" Clem spun around upon hearing Christa's voice, finding more walkers approaching. Sarah and Nick seemed preoccupied so Clem ran in front of Christa. She swung the tomahawk, downing one walker, then immediately swung back the other way to down another just beside her.

Before Clem could even try to kill the downed walkers, she heard Christa yell. Turning around she saw the woman running from yet another walker that seemed to come in from Clementine's left. As Christa tried to run for safety, Clem hurried to the walker, swept its leg with the tomahawk and stabbed it in the head moments after hitting the pavement.

Turning back to Christa, Clem watched as the woman moved towards what looked like a small movie theater next to the road. As she neared the front of the building, several more walkers burst out the doors and headed right for Christa. Clementine watched in horror as one grabbed Christa from behind as she tried to turn around and drove its teeth right towards her back.

"No!" Nick appeared seemingly out of nowhere and drove the flat end of his crowbar into the walker's skull. Christa broke free and started running back towards Clementine while Nick started swinging wildly at the walkers pouring out of the movie theater.

"Over here!" Clem and Christa turned towards Sarah, who was holding open a door to a small office building on the other side of the street. The pair ran into the building. Clementine switched her lantern on then gripped her tomahawk with both hands. They were in some kind of reception area that seemed free of walkers, for the moment.

"Nick!"

Clementine turned back to the door. She looked on in horror as she saw a walker biting Nick's bloody hand as he yelled out in pain. He knocked the walker off with the crowbar but was immediately attacked by another, who knocked the young man to the ground. Nick started screaming in agony as more walkers piled onto him.

"Nooo!" Clementine grabbed the door and pulled it closed, forcing Sarah inside. Clem, Christa and Sarah all found themselves backing into the nearest corner as they heard both Omid Jr and Nick yelling. Clementine dropped her tomahawk and aimed her gun at the door, her hands shaking. Christa tried to stop Omid Jr from crying while Sarah tried to stop herself from crying.

As Omid Jr settled down, Nick's cries of pain became easier to hear. The three sat in the corner, horrified as they listened to the terrible muffled sounds of him dying. Clem found herself growing sick as she couldn't ignore the sounds of walkers gnashing their teeth and Nick shrieking in anguish. Then Nick went silent, and all she could hear were distant muffled moans from the undead.

"He's… he's dead." Clementine's horrified realization moved Sarah to tears. "It… it had to be Matt. He… he killed Nick!" declared an angry Clementine. "After Nick saved his life!"

"We… we need to keep moving," stated an unnerved Christa. "We can't stay here."

"Nick…" sobbed Sarah. "Why?"

"I know, I know," comforted Christa as she put her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "He… he was a good man. He deserved better than that."

"I'll kill Matt," promised Clem through clenched teeth.

"Clem—"

"I will!"

"If you see him I wouldn't stop you," assured Christa in a bitter tone. "But getting the truck and getting out of a town is what's important right now. Not wandering around looking for Matt in the dark while surrounded by walkers."

"I…" Clem paused, trying to calm herself. "Yeah, yeah you're right."

"Okay," said Christa as calmly as she could. "Let's… let's look for a back door. Try to avoid the crowd outside." As Christa moved away from the corner, Clementine noticed a tear on the back of her jacket, and what looked like a small bloodstain.

"Christa…"

"We gotta get moving Clem."

"I think I see something."

Christa stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean, something?" she asked in a nervous voice.

"I… I think it might be a bite."


	85. And Then There Were Two

"No, no way," insisted a panicked Christa. "Where? Where do you see a bite?"

"On your back." Christa tried to reach around to her back, but couldn't while holding onto Omid Jr.

"Sarah, could you hold Junior for just a second?"

"Yeah." A tearful Sarah sheathed her machete and approached Christa, who carefully handed her baby to the older girl.

"Keep him away from that stuff on your raincoat."

"I will." Sarah carefully clutched Omid Jr to her shirt, taking great care not to let any of her raincoat touch his skin. Christa then removed her jacket while Clem holstered her gun and removed the lantern from her belt. Clementine lifted up the back of Christa's shirt and examined the injury.

"Well?" asked an anxious Christa.

"It's… it's a bite," answered Clementine, trying not to cry.

"You're sure? You're sure it's not just a cut or something? Or—"

"I can see the teeth marks," sobbed Clem as she let go of Christa's shirt. "It's a bite." Christa reached around and felt the injury with her hand. She looked at the small bits of blood on her shaking fingertips, then fell to her knees. "Christa, I'm—"

"Goddammit…" cried Christa as she pounded her fist into the ground. "Why? Why now? Why!" Omid Jr started crying in response to the outburst. Christa stood up and moved to him while Clem picked up her tomahawk, fearful that walkers may have heard Christa.

"I'm sorry I yelled sweetie," consoled Christa as she took her son back from Sarah. "I'm sorry. I…" Christa suddenly became very quiet. "Oh God… what… what am I'm going to do?" Clementine watched as Christa slid down the wall, an absolutely devastated expression frozen on her face, and a baby softly crying in her arms. Seeing the horrible scene, Clem found herself just as lost as Christa. They both just stared at the fidgeting newborn, unable to even begin to think what they should do.

"I…" Clem and Christa turned to a tearful Sarah. "I… I'll take care of him," blurted out Sarah, sounding unsure of herself.

"What?" asked a dumbfounded Christa.

"We… we both will," insisted Clem, trying to sound confident.

"No… you couldn't."

"We could," retorted Clementine, trying to muster whatever lingering strength she had left. "We could do it."

"I… I was supposed to take care of you," sobbed Christa.

"You did. You did take care of me," reassured a choked up Clementine. "You took great care of me. You and Omid both. And now… I can take care of him, for you. For both of you."

"And I'll help," added an emotional Sarah. "I'll do everything I can. I'd watch him and feed him and burp him and put him to bed and tell him we love him and…" Sarah trailed off, finding herself breathless.

"No, you… you just can't…"

"Christa," spoke Clem, trying to compose herself. "What choice do we have?"

"Well." Christa looked down at her son. "He hasn't been alive that long." Clem felt uneasy as Christa's gaze seemed to move to the gun in her holster. "Maybe… maybe we can just… give him back to God."

"What?" exclaimed a horrified Sarah.

"Why would you even think that?" asked an equally horrified Clementine. "Why don't you want us to take care of him?"

"I can't ask that of you," professed Christa in a pitiable voice. "You're… you're just kids yourself. You've got it hard enough as it is. Especially now that I can't be there to help you anymore. I just… I just can't ask you take care of a baby on top of everything else. It's just too much."

"We want to. We want to do it," insisted Sarah.

"You have no idea how much a burden it would be," warned Christa.

"Whatever we'd have to do, we'd do it," asserted Clementine.

"Without me, you… you'd have to find baby formula for him, for months, maybe years, just to feed him," explained a despondent Christa.

"Then we'll find some," said Clem. "We'll have to find food anyway. So we'll find formula too."

"You'd have to watch him constantly," stressed Christa. "And it'd be for years."

"I'll watch him," volunteered Sarah. "For as long as it took."

"Me and Sarah both would," reasoned Clem. "We could take turns while the other one gets things he needs."

"Then there's the walkers, and everything else out there," rambled a heartbroken Christa. "You saw what happened just now, and at the church. I… I'd hate to think you died, just because you were trying to take care of me and Omid's child." Clementine became silent, then approached Christa.

"I could die anytime," noted Clem in a grim tone. "I think I'd rather die helping him, than live a little longer knowing I just left a little baby to die, without even trying," realized a weeping Clementine.

"And, if we find somewhere safe to stay, we could raise him for you," spoke a hopeful Sarah. "And, we'd do everything we could to make him happy. I'd… I'd play with him anytime he wants to. I promise."

"We both said we wouldn't give up on the world before it was over," Clementine said to Christa. "You gotta let us try. Please, just let us at least try." Christa looked at Clementine, stunned by the young girl's words.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," spoke a shaken Christa. "Everything that's happened and… you're still such a good kid." Christa looked beyond Clementine and towards Sarah. "Both of you." Christa looked down at her son, breathing softly in her arms.

"I'm sorry Omid," apologized Christa. "I'm so sorry I won't be there. I'm so sorry… but…" Christa looked up at Clementine and Sarah, smiling ever so slightly. "I don't think you could have asked for two better big sisters." Clementine and Sarah both managed a weak smile as they watched Christa stand up.

"Since I'm sick, it's probably safer for Sarah to hold him," reasoned Clem.

"I don't mind," said Sarah. "I liked holding him." Christa moved to Sarah and carefully passed Omid Jr into her arms. Sarah and Clem both looked at the newborn, a little overwhelmed by their newfound responsibility, but also in awe of the tiny living person in front of them.

"I'll give you both a quick crash course on childcare, and then we need to get moving again," spoke a resigned Christa. "We'll get the truck, get out of town, and I'll stay with you until the bite starts slowing me down, then you two can just go on without me."

"Christa…"

"No, that's what we're doing," asserted Christa as she put her gore-stained jacket back on. "I don't wanna lose any time arguing about it."

"Okay," conceded a reluctant Clementine, not wanting to defy a dying woman's request.


	86. Springfield Elementary

Clementine marched forward, her tomahawk tightly gripped in her hands. She kept eyeing the street for signs of Matt or anyone still alive, but all she saw were more walkers wandering about. She turned to Christa, who just walked along silently, a resigned look in her eyes. Between them was Sarah, tenderly gripping Omid Jr as they moved down Laurel Street.

Clem's mind was spinning and every step was nerve-racking. Another attack seemed inevitable, they still didn't know how far this truck was, or how long Christa had to live, and all the while she was trying to remember everything Christa had just told her about raising a baby. Everything from when he can start eating solid foods to how newborns have to be kept warm.

As the group walked forward, Clementine noticed a larger building coming up on the right. Reaching the intersection bordering the building, Clem noticed there was only another block or so before the road started cutting through a forest devoid of further signs of civilization. Looking at the building to her right, Clem could read the words 'Springfield Elementary' just above the main entrance.

"Look," whispered Clem as she pointed to the sign. "It's the elementary school." Christa and Sarah looked up at the sign.

"We're almost there," whispered Sarah.

"And that must be the road out of town." Clementine pointed to where the highway moved into a wooded area.

Christa looked down the highway, then back to the school. "Turn right when you reach the school." Christa turned and looked down the road running in front of the school. "House at the end of the street, in the backyard, under the tree."

"How far do you think that is?" whispered Clem.

"It'll be a lot closer if we keep moving." Christa started walking down the street, Sarah and Clementine following behind her. Clementine looked over at the school as they passed in front of it, before turning her attention back to the road. There were more walkers roaming about the area just about everywhere she searched. Clem looked ahead, trying to see if there was an end to the road in sight, when she heard Omid Jr whining softly.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," whispered Sarah as she tried gently rocking the newborn. Clem watched anxiously as Omid Jr seemed to grow more upset.

"Here, let me see him," spoke Christa in a hushed voice. "Maybe I…" Clem watched as Christa rubbed her forehead, almost as if she was dizzy.

"Christa?"

"I…" Christa moaned softly as she stumbled a few feet towards the side of the road, before collapsing onto the grass.

"Christa!" Clem's call went unanswered.

"Clementine!" Clem turned to see Omid Jr was crying louder. Looking about she saw walkers gravitating towards the bleating newborn and the older girl desperately trying to calm him. "Please, please," begged Sarah as she tried gently rubbing Omid's back through the jacket wrapped around him. Clementine saw a walker moving right behind Sarah and sprung into action. She ran past Sarah and slashed the walker's ankle. It fell forward, nearly colliding with Sarah, who stumbled back in surprise. Clementine flipped the tomahawk around and quickly stabbed the downed walker's head.

Clementine heard Sarah yelp and looked up to see another walker approaching her. Sarah ran from the living corpse as it grabbed at her while Clem ran towards it. She toppled it with ease, but before she finished it she noticed several more walkers closing in. Clem turned around and noticed Sarah dodging away from yet even more of them.

Clem ran after Sarah, joining the older girl by the front door. Clem saw walkers coming from all directions. She searched desperately for an opening big enough for Sarah and Omid Jr to slip by, but found none. There were too many walkers and they were grouped far too close together.

"What do we do?" Clementine didn't have an answer for Sarah. Backing away from the approaching horde, Clem noticed the wall she was leaning on moved a little. Spinning around she saw she was pushing on the front door of the school. Clem switched her lantern on and pushed the door open.

"Inside!" Sarah ran past Clem and into the school. Looking back at the approaching horde Clementine saw what she thought was Christa standing up in the distance, but she couldn't be sure, nor could she tell if Christa had awoken from her blackout or come back as a walker. Seeing the horde grow closer, Clem let go of the door and stepped inside herself. Watching the door swing shut, Clem didn't see a lock near the handles, but looking up she noticed a pair of slide locks at the very top of the door, much like the ones on the church's front doors.

"Sarah!" Sarah quickly ran to Clem's side. "Those locks at the top, you gotta push them in place." Clementine dropped her tomahawk as Sarah handed her Omid Jr. The older girl stretched for the lock, but couldn't quite reach. She jumped up and touched the slide lock, but couldn't manage to push on it while in the air.

"Kneel down, you can lift me up on your shoulders." Clementine moved back a few feet and set a still crying Omid Jr onto the ground. "I'll be right back." Clem turned towards Sarah. The machete's handle blocked Clem's seat, so she slid it out and tossed it onto the ground. Climbing onto Sarah's shoulders, the older girl quickly grasped Clem's legs and stood up. Clementine stretched with her hand and made contact with the end of the lock. She still couldn't move her arm far enough to push it into place.

"Jump!" ordered Clem.

"What?" asked Sarah. "I—"

"Just do it!" Clem positioned her hand right under the slide just as she felt a slight bump from Sarah's shoulders. Her hand moved just enough to slam into the slide lock, pushing it into place. As she fell back into place on Sarah's shoulders, Clem struggled to maintain her balance, grabbing onto Sarah's forehead for support.

"Ow!" Sarah swayed slightly, trying to keep the younger girl on her shoulders. Clem looked over and noticed the other door next to the one she just locked.

"Over there!" Sarah moved to the door and Clem reached for slide lock. "Jump!" Clementine felt a sudden upward push, stronger than the first one. She managed to slide the lock into place, then felt gravity pulling on her as she and Sarah fell backwards.

Clementine and Sarah collapsed onto the ground. Walkers began to rattle and shake the doors while the girls picked themselves up. Sarah immediately crawled over to the Omid Jr, but before she could pick him up she felt Clem's hand tugging on her arm.

"Look." Clem pointed down the hall and Sarah watched as more walkers emerged from the classrooms. "We have to kill them all."

"But…"

"It's the only way and I can't kill them all without you." Sarah forced herself to turn away from the crying baby and picked up her machete. "They can't smell us and they won't hear us over the crying," instructed Clem as she picked up her tomahawk. "We have to do it just like they showed us. You knock them over and I'll kill them. Then we move back and do it again, until they're gone."

"What if we run out of space before then?" asked a nervous Sarah as they approached the walkers.

"Then you grab OJ and we'll try to run for it the best we can," reasoned Clem. "But right now, just focus on knocking them down." Clementine and Sarah slowed to a stop. They could see at least eight walkers stumbling down the hallway, the first of which was right in front of them.

Sarah swung her machete, toppling it with ease, which allowed Clementine to kill it. Two more walkers stepped over that one, forcing Clem and Sarah both to attack. They toppled both walkers, then finished them nearly at the same time. A fourth walker stumbled over another's corpse, allowing Clementine to easily kill it before it got back up.

Falling back closer to the door, Clementine saw the last four walkers descending upon them, nearly shoulder to shoulder. Clem toppled the one on the far right while Sarah knocked over one furthest left. The girls moved back again, Omid Jr just a few feet behind them now. They struck again, toppling and killing the last two walkers.

Clem moved to the walker she previously knocked over and stabbed it as it tried to crawl forward. She turned around as she heard Sarah yell. The last walker had grabbed Sarah's ankle as it tried to crawl to Omid Jr. Clementine raced towards it and arched her tomahawk back, just as Sarah stabbed the walker through the eye socket with the machete.

"You okay?"

"I think so." Clem looked down the hallway and saw no other walkers in the immediate area. She looked over to the doors, which were rattling loudly from the numerous dead constantly pushing against it. "We need to go, right…" Turning back to Sarah, Clem found the older girl had already sheathed her machete and picked up Omid Jr.

"It'll be okay," said Sarah in the calmest voice she could manage as she held the child close to her chest.

"Stay behind me," ordered Clem as she started walking down the hall at a brisk pace. "Keep looking for more walkers, or a way out," instructed Clem as they passed a couple of open doors. "And don't look in the same place I'm looking, that's… that's a waste."

"Just a second," asked Sarah as she slowed down.

"No, we…" Clementine watched as Omid Jr started to settle in Sarah's arms. The older girl made gentle shushing noises while rocking him very slowly. A few short moments later the newborn became quiet.

"Wow," awed Clem. "Good… good job."

"Just be good, just a little longer," whispered Sarah as she carefully clutched the baby to her chest. "It'll be okay. It'll be okay."

"Come on." The pair started moving down the hall again. Looking around at the walls, Clem found it strange seeing things like kids' pictures and colorful posters. She felt sentimental as she read some of the children's names written in paint on their pieces of art.

As she kept searching for walkers or an exit, Clementine found herself becoming nostalgic. Seeing the classrooms, the desks, even the school bell on the wall. It all made her yearn for a time before the walkers all over again. In another time, this would be right where she belonged. Now it was another dangerous dark place that might kill her.

Looking at Omid Jr in Sarah's arms made her realize he'd never even know what a school was, which just saddened her. Then it dawned on her, that she and Sarah would probably have to teach him how to read and write, which made her wonder if she could even do such a thing. There's so many things she never learned, and realized there must have been plenty of things Sarah never learned either.

Reaching the end of the hall, Clem found the path branched right and left in front of a large section of windows. Clementine looked to Sarah and made a gesture with her hand to stop moving. Sarah did as instructed as Clem moved forward a bit. The young girl inched up to one of the windows and peeked inside.

Past the windows was a cafeteria, littered with dozens of walkers, all of which were children. Clementine found herself stunned at the sight of so many undead little boys and little girls, many of which looked younger than her, and none of which appeared any older than Sarah.

There were huge patches of dried blood on many of the tables, several spots on the wall, and rotted bodies and body parts all over the floor. Many of the child walkers were missing arms, some were missing legs, other's heads listed to one side because their necks had been torn out.

Clementine felt sickened as she spotted one girl lying on the ground with a torn out stomach. She just twitched the stumps where her arms and legs should have been, moaning to herself helplessly as she tried to move. Yet what Clem found most disturbing were the pink bows still in her hair, stained by flecks of blood.

Clementine forced herself away from the window. She took a few steps, then felt her whole body go limp. The tomahawk slipped from the young girl's grip as she fell to her knees. Tears started dripping from Clem's eyes. She wanted nothing more than to cry, but she couldn't even breathe. She felt like she was going to suffocate, but then she felt a hand on her face. Looking up, she saw Sarah kneeling beside her.

"What… what is it?" asked a terrified Sarah.

"Don't…" Clementine struggled to even speak. "Don't look."

"I… I won't." Clem located her tomahawk and slowly forced herself to stand up.

"Let's… let's just go." Clementine started moving past the windows, taking great care not to look at any of them again. Moving down the hall, Clem found another turn that led to a hallway that ended with a door that had a small window in it. Reaching the door, Clem looked through the window and saw a playground.

"We can get back outside through—" Clementine found herself interrupted by a sudden crying fit from Omid Jr. He cried so loudly and suddenly it actually startled Clem. "What's wrong with him?"

"I… I don't know. Maybe—" Clementine turned her head as she heard a loud bang. She watched in horror as the undead children burst forward from a door connected to the cafeteria.

"Outside!" Clem pushed the door open and ran outside, Sarah right behind her. The pair sprinted across the yard, past the swings, around a slide, and right into a chain link fence. Quickly looking around, Clementine didn't see any gates and the only door she saw was the one she came out of.

"Now what?" Clementine looked at the chain link fence and suddenly got an idea.

"Give me OJ." Clementine put the tomahawk's sheath back on and hoisted the weapon onto her back. Sarah handed the crying baby to Clem, who immediately spun around. "Get the tin snips out of my backpack.

"Tin—"

"Tiny hedge clippers." Sarah unzipped Clem's backpack and fished around inside.

"Is this them?" Clem turned around and found the tin snips in Sarah's hand.

"Start cutting the fence." Sarah gripped the tin snips and moved them to a link at the top of the fence. With some effort, she cut a piece of the fence, then immediately moved down to the next section. "Remember what Tom said, you don't need a hole, just a straight line. Then we can pull it open enough to get through."

A loud bang sounded from behind. Clementine turned around and watched as the pint-sized walkers knocked open the door and started pouring onto the playground. They moved slowly and it was a big playground, but they were coming. Clementine tried rocking Omid Jr, but it didn't seem to help at all.

"Hurry!" pleaded Clem.

"I'm going as fast as I can," answered a near hysterical Sarah as she clipped another piece of the fence. Clementine's legs began to wobble as she saw the undead children move closer. She watched them stumble past the swing, clumsily navigate around the slide, then close in on the fence.

"Pull on the fence, as hard as you can." Clementine watched Sarah pocket the tin snips then grab the chain link with both hands. The older girl pulled with all her might, creating a small space between the cut sections of fence. Clementine stepped through the opening, taking great care with Omid Jr as she did.

Clementine turned around and watched as Sarah tried to slip through the opening herself, but her machete hilt hit the top of the fence. Clementine shifted Omid Jr to one arm and grabbed the top of the machete, pulling it down enough to clear the fence. Clem then grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled on her, helping the bigger girl squeeze through the gap.

"Clem, look out!" Clementine let go of Sarah and turned around to find another walker mere feet away. Clem tried to back away, but in her haste tripped over her feet. She clutched Omid Jr as she fell over, landing on her back. The girl watched in horror as the walker lunged forward, only for its head to be skewered by the end of a machete.

"Come on!" Sarah helped Clem to her feet. "Where do we go?" Clementine looked around frantically for some kind of safety. There were more walkers closing in from almost every direction, but there also was the highway.

"The road!" Clem started racing towards the highway. "Don't bother killing them. Just knock them down." Sarah ran ahead of Clementine and towards a pair of walkers heading in their direction. Clementine felt her heart beat faster as she watched the older girl ready her machete. Sarah quickly sliced from the left, then from the right. Each walker fell on their sides, leaving a small gap between them.

"Keep going!" Clem ran past the two downed walkers and watched as Sarah tripped another one with a quick swing of her blade. The two arrived on the road and started running faster. As they moved into the wooded section of the highway, Clementine saw the road was curving towards the right. As they approached the curve, Clem could hear several rustling noises from the trees. More walkers began to emerge from the forest.

"Sarah stop!" Sarah stopped and turned to Clem. "Take OJ." Sarah hastily sheathed her machete and took the wailing newborn. "You're faster, take OJ as far down the road as fast as you can. Just keep running until you don't see them following you anymore. Then try to get him to stop crying."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna try to make sure they don't follow you."

"What? How are—"

"Just trust me," pleaded Clem as she watched the walkers from the woods grow closer. "I'll be right back. Just go." Sarah looked at the walkers, then Clem. The older girl reluctantly turned away and started sprinting down the road. Clementine moved away from where she was standing, allowing the walkers to pass her by.

The young girl slowly moved against the outpour of walkers, trying to maneuver her way into the forest. As she moved forward, Clem noticed even more walkers coming out of the woods. Her lantern showing more dead moving about, likely remnants of the herd when they tried to pass through the woods.

Spotting a gap in the trees, Clem rushed forward and into a clearing. Slowly she spun around, making sure there were no walkers in the immediate area. Seeing none right in front of her, Clem pulled her gun, switched the safety off, aimed up at the sky, and pulled the trigger.

A walker darted out from behind a tree and lunged at Clem. The small girl narrowly dodged out of the way and found herself instinctively aiming at the walker, but stopped herself from pulling the trigger. She watched the walker stumble to where it heard the shot, then just stop, unable to locate anything.

Other walkers started pouring into the clearing and Clementine found herself squeezing past more and more dead as she tried to move back to the road. With every one that passed her, she felt a tinge of anxiety, as if the rain coat would suddenly stop working or they'd hear something she did.

But eventually Clementine found herself clear of the forest and right next to the road. She carefully maneuvered past the remaining walkers shuffling after the sound of the gunshot and onto the highway. Clear of the dead, Clem started running, moving down the road as fast as she could.

Clem's legs ached as she forced herself to keep moving forward. With the immediate danger passed, fatigue began to set in, her heart slowed down and Clem suddenly found herself exhausted. She was tired, sore and in desperate need of some rest. As she started to slow down, she became anxious as she didn't see any signs of Sarah or Omid Jr.

Shifting into a modest walking pace, Clem scanned her surroundings for any signs of the older girl and the baby. There were a few cars stalled in different parts of the road, but not much else. She didn't even see any more walkers, which was a relief, but she still didn't see her lost friend either.

Looking up at the sky, the moonlight was waning and giving way to what looked like very early morning. The sun would probably come up before long, but Clem reasoned if she couldn't find Sarah, it wouldn't do her much good. The prospect of being completely alone suddenly dawned on Clem, and she found it very frightening.

Finding herself overwhelmed and dead tired, Clementine sat down on the hood of the nearest car. She sat there, alone in the darkness, unsure what to do. After catching her breath, Clementine heard footsteps fast approaching from in front of her. She drew her gun as a figure approached from further down the road.


	87. The Longest Journey

"Clementine!" called a familiar voice in the distance.

"Sarah?" Clem leapt off the hood of the car and started moving to the figure. "Sarah!" Clem saw the older girl's face come into view, Omid Jr still clutched to her chest. "Are you okay?" asked Clem as she reached her friend.

"Yeah… I'm okay," assured a tired Sarah between deep breaths. "And… I got Omid to stop crying. At least for now. Are you okay? I heard a gunshot."

"Yeah, I figured if you were far enough away where they couldn't hear OJ crying, and they heard something else loud, they'd follow that instead," explained Clem. "So I went into the woods and shot my gun."

"Wow, that's really smart," complimented Sarah between breaths.

"I'm just glad it worked."

Sarah surveyed their surroundings. "Um… what do we do now?"

"We… we need to keep moving."

"Moving where?"

"I… I don't know," said Clem. "But Shaffer's said they were coming to Springfield to find us. So we should get far away before they get here." Clementine took a breath and started walking again, and Sarah followed.

"So, what about the truck?" Clementine looked to Omid Jr. He was quiet at the moment, but he seemed to be fidgeting ever so slightly in Sarah's grasp.

"I don't think we can risk it," said Clem. "We barely got away and if OJ cries we'd have to do it all over again."

"Well, what if one of us went and the other one stayed here with Omid?"

"I… I don't want to do that. If something went wrong, then it would just be one of us with OJ, or just one of us alone."

"But if we didn't have Omid with us, we could just walk past the lurkers."

"Yeah, but Matt might still be in Springfield, waiting to attack us," seethed a bitter Clem. "And Shaffer's is coming too. And… I don't even know how to drive."

"I do… sorta. But I wouldn't know what to do if Matt or someone from Shaffer's found me."

"Let's just keep going."

"What do you think happened to Christa? Did the bite actually kill her that fast?"

"I'm not sure. Lee passed out after he got bitten, so maybe she was still alive." Clementine found herself tearing up. "But… we can't go back for her now. And even if we did, the bite would just kill her later."

"I'm sorry Clementine."

"It's just not fair," Clem mumbled to herself. "But, life's not fair, so…" Clem noticed Sarah had stopped moving, looking at one of the cars near the side of the road.

"Sarah, come on. We—"

"There's a car seat in this one."

"So?"

"So, that's something only babies use. Maybe it has other things for babies." Sarah moved to the car and put her hand on the door.

"Sarah, don't," ordered Clem.

"There might be something we need for Omid in here."

"I know, but you got to be careful when checking places you don't know are safe. There could be a walker in there."

"Oh, right, I'm sorry."

Clementine removed her tomahawk and approached the car. "When you open it, make sure you don't stand right in front of the door, in case something comes out."

"Okay." Clem nodded and Sarah pulled the door open, moving with it so the door remained between her and the open car. Looking inside, Clementine didn't see anyone or any bodies. Inching closer to the door, she banged on the edge of the car with her tomahawk, making a small clanking noise. She stepped back a few feet, expecting a walker, but nothing came.

"Okay, open the back door now." Sarah pulled the back door open. Clem saw the car seat Sarah mentioned. It wasn't strapped into the seat but just sitting there. Nestled in the car seat was a single pink gift bag. Clementine sheathed her tomahawk and picked up the bag.

"What is it?" Clementine dumped the bag's contents onto the back seat. Tumbling out came a pack of diapers, what looked like tiny pink pajamas, a baby's bottle, a small container and a small piece of shimmering material. Picking up the material, Clem realized it was a deflated balloon. Flipping it around revealed the words 'It's a girl!'

"Look." Sarah picked up the container. "Milk-based powder, just add water. For babies zero to twelve months. This is baby formula."

"Yeah, they must have been getting this stuff for someone who was having a baby." Clementine tossed the deflated balloon aside. "I guess they never got to give it to them." Clementine packed all the other items back into the pink bag.

"Maybe we could just take the whole car?" suggested Sarah.

"That's a good idea." Clementine moved into the front seat. She saw the keys still in the ignition. She sat down behind the wheel and turned the key. Nothing happened.

"The battery must be dead," realized a disappointed Sarah. "Or, some other thing, or a lot of things."

"It was worth a try." Clementine moved out of the car, taking the pink bag full of goods with her.

"Well, now that we got formula, shouldn't we feed Omid?" suggested Sarah. "Maybe he's been crying because he's hungry?"

"We should find somewhere safe to rest for a while." Looking down the road, Clementine saw a building in the distance near where a smaller road split from the highway. "Maybe down there." Clem and Sarah quickly moved to the building at a brisk pace. Approaching it, they could see it was a small brick structure with a sign that read 'Rest Area' posted in front of it.

"Well, it does say rest area," noted Sarah, trying to sound hopeful.

"Let's be sure no one else is here first." Clem readied her tomahawk and Sarah opened the door. Clem peered inside, then knocked her tomahawk against the door frame a couple of times. No response. The pair stepped inside and found there was little to see. Just a couple of vending machines against one wall and a pair of doors the led to the bathrooms.

Clementine approached the door to the girl's room and Sarah pulled it open. The inside appeared empty but Clem rapped on the side of the door frame. Again, no response. She then moved to the boy's room, which Sarah pulled open. It too appeared empty and another bang of the tomahawk produced no results. Moving away from the bathrooms, the only other door appeared to be another glass one that led back outside.

"I guess it's safe," said Sarah.

"For now." Clementine breathed a sigh of relief as she sheathed her tomahawk.

"You think maybe we could sleep here for a while?" asked Sarah.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Clem. "We're not that far from Springfield, and it doesn't look like there's any locks on the door. At least, none we can use without a key."

Sarah sighed. "I'm… I'm just really tired,"

"I am too," said a weary Clem. "But I don't think we should stop here for too long."

"Well, can we at least stop for a little while?"

"Um… yeah, I think I could use a break." Clementine took off her backpack, then her raincoat.

"Here, hold Omid for a second." Sarah carefully handed Omid Jr to Clem, who took great care to not to hold the newborn too close to her face, worried he might catch her cold. Looking at the tiny person fidget in her arms, the weight of her responsibility suddenly felt overwhelming. Omid Jr himself felt heavier in Clem's hands as she tried to comprehend what caring for him would encompass.

"Here." Clem looked over to see Sarah, now free of her raincoat, backpack and machete, offering to take the baby back. Clem handed Omid Jr back, and found her concerns ease slightly as Sarah held the baby close to her chest.

"So, I guess we should feed him." Clem picked up the pink gift bag she took and removed the baby formula from it. "So, do we just mix this with water? Like the powdered milk?"

"Um, I don't know," said Sarah. "It looks like there's instructions on the back though." Clementine turned the container over and located the directions.

"Your baby's health depends on carefully following the preparation, use and storage instructions below," read Clem. "Ask your baby's doctor about feeding…" The mention of a doctor seemed to upset Sarah, prompting Clem to skip ahead. "Need to sterilize, boil, water and utensils before mixing."

"We have to boil water first?"

"Well, Christa told me boiling water makes it safe to drink, so, I guess the water needs to be clean."

"Maybe we should boil some water anyways, just to be extra safe."

"We don't have a pot."

"What about the one Nick used to make soup?"

"It was in his bag." Sarah frowned in response to Clem. "Wash hands and utensils before preparing. Add one scoop per two…" Clem made a face as she tried to read the next part. "Fluh oz?"

"Let me see." Clem turned the container around so Sarah could read it. "That's an abbreviation, it means fluid ounces."

Clementine pulled out the baby bottle from the bag. "There's numbers going up the bottle, you think that's how many ounces it can hold?"

"I don't know, probably."

Clem set the bottle down and picked up the formula again. "Cap bottle, shake well, and feed baby immediately or refrigerate bottle."

"Well, we can't do that."

"Once feeding begins, use within one hour or discard. Tightly seal container and use within one month of being opened."

"It's only good for a month after we open it?" Sarah's question prompted Clementine to open the lid. Looking inside she saw the contents were still sealed beneath a layer of plastic.

"Well, at least this one hasn't been used yet," spoke a relieved Clem.

"But once we do, it's only good for a month, and Christa said a baby needs formula for at least six months, and maybe longer. So, we'd need to find at least five more," realized Sarah.

"And we don't know how long this one will last. It might not be enough for a month."

"I… I didn't know baby formula was so complicated."

"Me neither."

"And now, we're… we're all alone."

"No, not alone," insisted a nervous Clem. "We still got each other."

Sarah smiled slightly, then stopped. "Do you think that'll be enough for him?" she asked as she looked down at Omid Jr.

"It's… it's gonna have to be," said Clem, trying to conceal the doubt in her voice. "You… you were really brave back there."

"I was terrified the whole time," confessed Sarah.

"But you kept going. You did great Sarah."

"I… I just kept hearing him cry and thought, if I didn't do anything, he'd die, and I think that scared me more than the lurkers, even though they were really really scary."

"You're doing great," repeated Clem with a weak smile.

"I was mostly just doing whatever you said. I didn't know what to do, but you always do."

"I was just saying the first thing I thought of."

"The first thing you think of always seems like the right thing to do," smiled Sarah.

"Not always. Don't forget when I got us stuck, because I didn't listen to you."

"That wasn't your fault."

"Maybe, but even if it wasn't, I'm still not always right. So, if you think I'm wrong, you should say so, because you're smart too Sarah."

"You think I'm smart?" asked a surprised Sarah,.

"Definitely," said Clem. "You always think of things I don't notice. Like the car seat, and thinking there was stuff we could take for OJ. I didn't think about that."

"Yeah, but now we need something to boil water."

"Okay, well…" Clementine thought to herself. "Shaffer's hasn't made it this far yet, and Nick said the herd wasn't coming this way. So, we'll walk until we find another town. Then we'll find a house, make sure it's safe, then we'll search it for stuff we can use. Most people had pots and pans, and maybe we could even find more food. Then after we feed OJ, we can get some sleep."

"What kind of house should we look for?"

"I… I don't know. Any house I guess."

"Let's try to find a nice one. With nice beds."

"Yeah, and really warm blankets too. It'd be great to sleep in a warm bed again."

"Oh, and we should look for a house with a fireplace, so it'll be easier to boil water, and cook things."

"And it'll be easier to keep warm too."

"When should we leave?"

"I don't know, maybe in a few minutes?"

"Do you think I could go to the bathroom first?"

"Sure."

Sarah looked at Omid Jr, then smelled the air around him. "Um, I think he already went to the bathroom," she said.

"Well, we do have these." Clem removed the diapers from the bag.

"I think there was a changing table in the bathrooms."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Sarah and Clem moved to the girl's room. Pulling open the door and stepping inside, Clementine noticed a plastic section on the wall labeled 'Changing Table.' Sarah twisted a knob on it and tugged on the plastic, pulling it down into a table, which Clementine placed the diapers on.

"I've… I've never done this before," said Sarah.

"Do you want me to do it?"

"Do you know how?"

"Um… no," realized Clem.

"I'll do it. You're sick, so it's probably safer if I do it."

"You should wash your hands first." Sarah set Omid Jr on the changing table and moved to the sink. She turned a knob, but no water came out. "I've got a bottle of water in my backpack." Clementine went to her backpack and took the water. She also picked up the baby clothes from the pink bag. "Here, only use a tiny bit though."

"I will," assured Sarah as she took the bottle. "It looks like this place still has soap and paper towels. So that's good."

"And you should put this on him." Clem laid out the baby clothes.

"Isn't that a girl's outfit?"

"So?" shrugged Clem. "We got to keep him warm."

"Yeah, that's true." Clementine removed the lantern from her belt loop and laid it out for Sarah. "You sure you'll be okay without the lantern?"

"Yeah, just bring it out when you're done," said Clem. "I'm going to try and get into that snack machine. Maybe some of the stuff in it is still good."

"Okay, hopefully I won't mess this up," said Sarah as she opened the pack of diapers. "I really don't know much about this stuff. I… I don't even know what moms are supposed to be like." Clem moved in close and gripped Sarah's hand.

"Moms are nice people who always help you and tell you they love you," smiled Clem. "You'd be a great mommy."

"I would?" asked Sarah, touched by Clem's suggestion.

"Definitely," assured Clem as she squeezed Sarah's hand.

"Thanks Clem." Sarah hugged the younger girl, who gladly hugged her right back.

"Once you're done we'll start moving again," said Clem as she released Sarah.

"Okay, I'll see you in a minute." Clementine left the bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind her. Without the lantern, the rest stop was dimly lit, but Clem could see well enough to locate the vending machines.

One was a cola machine, which Clem didn't even know where to begin on how to open. She also figured the cola probably wasn't good anymore either. The snack machine however had a glass front so you could see what was for sale. Clem didn't know how long candy stayed good, but figured she might as well try.

She retrieved her tomahawk and unsheathed it. Clem arched the weapon back and swung it as hard as she could. The glass cracked when the axe head made contact, but it didn't break. Clem struck the glass again, widening the cracks, but still not breaking it.

She started pounding on the glass with the tomahawk, further cracking the glass until finally a large section broke off of it. A few more well-placed swings widened the hole, which prompted Clem to stop. She set the tomahawk aside, taking a couple of quick breaths before examining the machine's contents.

The dim light made it hard to read the packaging, but Clem grabbed what she was pretty sure was a chocolate bar. She peeled open the wrapper and looked at the chocolate. Again, the dim light made it hard to tell what it looked like, but a quick sniff and Clem realized she didn't want to eat it.

She tossed the foul smelling snack aside and reached for something else. She opened a packet of candies and sniffed inside. No immediate odor, so Clem poured a couple of round candies into her hand. She placed one in her mouth and started chewing.

The candy was very hard, making it difficult to chew. Eventually, the hard texture gave way to something that felt more like already chewed gum that had dried out for a few days. The flavor wasn't much better. Clem could taste a hint of sugar, but mostly she felt like she was chewing on wax.

Clem spat out the candy, then tossed the rest of the packet aside. She looked up at the rest of the machine's contents and sighed. She could probably try every one of them and not find anything edible. Unless it was canned, dried or dehydrated, it was no good anymore.

Clementine picked up her tomahawk and turned away from the broken machine. She was going to check on Sarah, but then she noticed something. One of the exterior doors moved slightly as she turned past it. Clem's initial instinct was someone was coming in, but the door was closed now. Then it dawned on her, someone had already come in.

Clementine spun around in time to see someone short swing a crowbar at her. Clem held up the tomahawk just in time to block the crowbar, but her attacker struck hard enough to knock the weapon right out of her hand. She dodged out of the way of another attack and pulled her gun, but the intruder managed to strike the gun with the crowbar, knocking it clear across the room.

Clem lunged at the crowbar, grabbing it with both hands. She tried to pull it free from her attacker's grip, but her attacker pushed as she pulled back, knocking her onto the ground. The mystery attacker forced the crowbar onto Clem's neck, bearing down with all his weight in an attempt to strangle her.

Clementine desperately tried to pry the crowbar off, but simply wasn't strong enough. Even this close she couldn't see her attacker's face clearly in the dim light, but she could see well enough to know where his eyes should be. Clem swung her right hand at his head, which quickly moved out of the way, making it easier for Clem to use her left hand to stab her fingers into his right eye socket.

Clem heard a boy's voice yell out in pain from the attack as she felt her fingertips digging into his soft flesh. He let go of the crowbar and tried to grab Clem's left hand, but she pulled it back and quickly grabbed her knife instead. She tried to stab the boy in the head, but he threw up his arms, one of which took the full force of the attack.

The boy screamed out again as he tried to pull the knife out of his arm. Clem grabbed the crowbar and swung at his head. Again, the boy blocked the attack with his arm, which knocked him onto his side. Clementine tried to deal a decisive blow but the boy responded with a swift kick, knocking the small girl backwards and sending the crowbar flying out of her hands.

Clementine clutched her stomach as she tried to pick herself up. She spotted her gun lying near the bathroom doors and tried to crawl over to it, when she felt an arm wrap around her throat. Clem watched in horror as she saw her own knife swinging towards her face.

She reached out her arms and grabbed the boy's arm with both hands. She pushed as hard as she could, temporarily halting the attack, but slowly the blade was forced closer to her face, inch by inch. Clem pushed with all her might, but all she could manage was to slow the knife's progress.

"No!" screamed Clem in horror. "Stop!" A loud crying followed Clem's outburst. She felt a tug on her chin as she was forced to a stand by the person holding her in a headlock. Whoever they were forced Clem to turn towards one of the bathroom doors. Clem saw Sarah standing outside the door, the lantern on her waistband, a crying Omid Jr under one arm, and the gun shaking in her other hand.

"Shoot him Sarah!" Clem watched as Sarah just stood there, a stunned look frozen on her face. "Sarah!"

"Adam?"


	88. Fear Itself

Clementine tried to turn her head. The person holding her adjusted his grip as she did so, keeping the knife near Clem's face, but she could see him now. The side of his scarred face lit by the lantern, his empty eye socket now bloodied from where Clementine had stuck her fingers in it, and his skin and clothes smeared with rotted flesh.

"Sarah?" whispered a confused Adam. "Why are you here?"

"What?" asked an equally confused Sarah. "What… what are you doing here?" Sarah looked at Clem, horrified at the sight of Adam holding a knife to her. "What… what are you doing to her!" Clementine watched as Sarah clicked the gun's safety off.

"It was you the whole time, wasn't it!" realized an infuriated Clem. "Matt wasn't attacking us, you were! You're the one who threw those firecrackers! You killed Nick! And Christa!"

"Is that true?" asked a disgusted Sarah. "You were the one trying to kill us?"

"I… I didn't know it was you," spoke a confused Adam. "I thought you were Matt."

"What?" asked a bewildered Sarah. "What does that matter?"

"I didn't want to kill you," whispered Adam, sounding more disappointed than remorseful.

"What about Christa's baby?" asked an indignant Clem. "Did you want to kill him?"

"It's just gonna die anyway," said Adam in a quiet voice.

"No he won't!" denied a furious Sarah.

"It was you at Saint Christopher's too. You're the one who tried to get into the basement," realized Clem. "You were trying to kill us then too, weren't you?"

"I was just looking for food, then I heard you on the other side of the door," said Adam. "I hid until you went away, then I went away, but when I was leaving, I saw people carrying bags back inside, and figured they must have food."

"You were the one who locked us inside and then let the walkers in," accused Clem. "So they'd kill us all."

"Why!" shrieked a horrified Sarah. "Why would you do that?"

"I told you," spoke Adam. "You had food. I needed it."

"That's it!" yelled an appalled Sarah. "You… you tried to kill us all, just because you wanted our food?"

"That's just how it is now," spoke an indifferent Adam.

"No it's not!" dictated a frenzied Sarah. "That's… that's bullshit!"

"That's just what people like you always say to pretend like it's okay to do terrible things!" accused an infuriated Clementine.

"People like me?" asked a confused Adam.

"Bad people," growled Clem through clenched teeth.

"I… I just don't wanna die," confessed Adam, his cold voice wavering.

"So you kill people first?" asked Sarah.

"It's… it's the only way to be sure," lamented Adam, a hint of regret lingering in his voice. "That is… until Pete took me to Shaffer's, where they'd always feed me if I did what they said. But… it's gone now."

"You… you told Bill that we were going to escape. That's why he was asking us if there was anything he should know that day," realized Clementine. "And, you probably told Bill about how Pete wanted you to come with him too."

"Is that true?" asked Sarah.

"Gene would feed me more if I told him what I saw," said Adam.

"You… you did all those horrible things, just because you were hungry?" asked Sarah in disbelief, the gun trembling in her hand.

"You'll do a lot of things when you're hungry," mused a weary Adam. "What else could I do?"

"You could have just asked us for food! We… we would have helped you. You… you could have come with us," cried Sarah.

"I… I just couldn't take that chance," rationalized Adam, sounding unsure of himself. "And… and I told her, I didn't want to leave Shaffer's! I would have stayed there if you hadn't of ruined everything."

"Shaffer's isn't gone," informed a nervous Clem.

"Yes it is…" droned Adam. "I saw the dead break the gate down. And they didn't know how to get past them like I do. They're all dead."

"No they're not," retorted Sarah. "We heard them on the radio. They're still alive. They're even coming here."

"That's…" Adam trailed off, unsure how to answer. "What radio?"

"In my backpack," answered Clementine. "I can prove it." Adam eyed Clem's backpack lying on the ground a few feet away. Clem watched as Adam slowly transferred the knife from one hand to the other, then moved the blade to right under Clem's throat while keeping his arm wrapped around the girl's neck.

"Pick up the backpack," ordered Adam as he forced Clementine towards her bag. "And take out the radio." Clem did as Adam said, moving with him while Sarah tried to keep the gun aimed at the boy. "And only the radio."

Clementine very slowly knelt down as much as Adam would let her and reached into her backpack. She removed the radio and switched it on. Adam watched the device intently, waiting for any sign of activity.

"What the hell is taking so long!" Adam's eye nearly bulged out of his skull when he heard George's voice. "If—ahh! If I were out there, I'd have found them by now!"

"They trashed Saint Christopher's," whispered Byron. "And the truck was dragging dead out of everywhere. We had to go out on foot. Smelling like them isn't enough, we've got to keep quiet, so stop fucking calling us."

"Turn it off!" Clem switched the radio off. "They… they know how to get past the dead now. They'll… they'll find me again." A tense silence followed Adam's assessment of the situation, broken only by Omid Jr softly crying.

"Adam," spoke Sarah. "You… you can't mean all that stuff you just said, about Omid dying and having to kill people. If you did, why did you ever help Clementine when the lurker attacked her? Or… kill Mick when he wouldn't leave me alone?"

Clem tried to shift in place to see Adam better. He held onto her, but his grip seemed to be loosening slightly. He seemed troubled now, his single eye brimming with confusion and regret.

"Maybe… maybe I could just go back to Shaffer's." Adam looked to Sarah. "And… maybe if you came with me, that baby could live there."

"I don't want to go back to Shaffer's," said Sarah. "I—"

"You don't want to go out there!" babbled Adam, his voice dripping with terror. "It's so much worse out there. If you had any idea…"

"I've seen it," spoke a saddened Sarah. "People getting eaten. It's so horrible."

"That's nothing. The dead are always the same. The living are the dangerous ones. I've seen it…" Clementine noticed Adam was looking down at her. "And so has she. You didn't tell her, did you? The really bad things you never tell anyone?"

"She told me what happened," said Sarah. "About how a man lied to her and took her away."

"What did he do?" asked a nervous Adam.

"He… just asked her questions, and wouldn't let her leave, and—"

"That's not it," realized Adam. "You saw something else. Something much worse. Didn't you?" Clementine looked at Sarah and saw the confusion and fear welling up in her big brown eyes. "Tell her. Tell her what'll happen if you go out there. Tell her about the worst thing you ever saw."

Clementine's eyes met with an anxious Sarah, disturbed by Adam's demand, yet still morbidly curious to what he meant. Looking at the older girl's face, worried and confused all while holding a gun and a baby, Clem found she couldn't find it in herself to keep the truth from Sarah.

"We… we were starving," spoke Clementine. "And these two men, called the Saint Johns, said they'd feed us. We all went out to their farm. It was beautiful, and everything just felt right. They made us dinner, and I was about to eat, when Lee ran into the room, and told us…"

"Told you what?" asked Sarah.

"We… we were eating a person. I almost ate a person." Sarah's eyes went wide with shock. "They… they took one of the men who stayed with us, and they cut off his legs, and cooked them, and tried to feed them to us. Then he fell downstairs, screaming for help, crawling along on the ground, because he didn't have legs…" Clementine felt sick as she recalled that horrible night.

"They… they forced all of us into a meat locker. Because…" Clementine felt her chest tightening. "They were going to eat us. All of us."

"Why didn't they?" asked Adam.

"I… I crawled through a vent, and opened the door, and Lee and the others fought them off, and then we left."

"Nobody was there to fight them off for me," sniveled Adam. "I couldn't find my way back one day, and everything I did just got me more lost. I didn't know where I was. I was alone, and scared, and I just wanted to find my mom and dad, but I couldn't.

"Eventually, I found people. I thought they'd help me, but they didn't," snarled Adam as he tightened his grip on Clementine. "I wasn't the only boy there, there were others. They'd make us get them things from places filled with the dead. I saw so many other boys get eaten, and they'd shoot the ones that tried to run away," sobbed Adam.

"If we didn't bring back anything they liked, they'd…" Clem felt the knife pressing against her skin as Adam grew tenser. "And even when we did get what they want, sometimes they'd still hurt us anyways. It… it was never enough!"

"Adam…" spoke a stunned Sarah. "I'm—"

"But they did something different to the girls. I could never see it, but I could always hear it. Their screams, over and over again. I thought they were killing them, but they wouldn't die. They just kept screaming, and I… I just wanted it to stop!"

Clementine was speechless. Listening to Adam's story and remembering what Christa told her about one of the worst things people could do to each other, the young girl felt sick to her stomach. Looking up at Sarah, Clem saw a look of absolute terror frozen on the older girl's face.

"I spent so much time around the dead, that eventually they stopped trying to eat me. So the next time they sent me into them, I just kept going, and they couldn't follow me because they didn't understand if you looked and acted like the dead, they won't hurt you." Adam's remaining eye stared into Sarah. "But those people are still out there."

"Wuh… where?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"I don't know," spoke Adam, his voice dripping with terror. "But if they found you, you couldn't stop them and neither could she." Adam looked down at Clementine, still at Adam's mercy as he held a knife to her throat. "But Shaffer's probably could."

"I… I…" Sarah seemed lost, her grip on the gun weakening. "I'll… I'll come back with you." Clementine's heart sank as she heard Sarah say those words. "But… only if you let Clementine go."

"I…" Adam looked down at Clem, then looked back at Sarah. "I can't do that."

"Let her go!" demanded a crying Sarah. "Just let her go!"

"I can't do that," repeated Adam.

"Why not?" asked Clem.

"Because." Adam looked down at Clementine. "You're more like me than her."

"I'm nothing like you," retorted an angry Clem.

"Yes you are," insisted Adam in a calm voice. "You knew how to get past the dead too. I could tell when you asked Gene about why they don't attack each other. You knew the answer, but you didn't tell him. Why?"

"I… I…" Clem found herself speechless.

"You didn't tell him for the same reason I never told anyone. You knew you might need to get away from people one day."

"That doesn't make me like you," spoke an uncertain Clementine. "I don't just kill people like you."

"But you want to. You want to kill me, don't you? For killing your mom, and that man with her."

"I…" Clementine felt the anger boiling inside her as she remembered Nick's horrible screams and Christa's heartbreaking breakdown after she discovered she was bitten. "I… I do want to kill you," realized Clem.

"You… you do?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"I… I do," confessed Clem in a shameful voice.

"That's why I can't let her go," stated Adam.

"But I want to be with Sarah more!" professed a tearful Clementine. "And I want to take care of OJ, like I promised Christa."

"I want to be with you too," professed an equally tearful Sarah.

"If you let me go, we'll just leave," Clem promised Adam. "You can go back to Shaffer's, we'll go away, and you'll never see us again."

"I…" Adam paused as he thought about Clementine's proposal.

"You can tell them you killed us. You could take my hat, or Sarah's glasses, or whatever to prove it. I don't care, just let me go!"

"Please Adam, please just let her go," begged Sarah. "Nobody else has to die. Just… just let her go." Adam looked down at Clementine, then looked up at Sarah. His eye shifted from the older girl's face to the gun she was holding.

"Please don't point that gun at me," asked Adam, his voice shaking. "I… I don't like that."

"Just let Clementine go and I'll put it down," assured Sarah in a calm voice. "I promise." Adam looked at Sarah, then back down at Clementine. Clem felt a sudden push as Adam nudged her forward.

"What… what are you doing?" asked Clem as she was forced to walk forward with Adam.

"I… I just have to be sure," mumbled Adam.

"Stop it!" insisted a trembling Sarah. "Don't… don't come any closer!"

"Please don't shoot me," spoke Adam in a quiet voice. "I just have to be sure."

"Sarah stop him!" exclaimed Clem as she found herself being forced closer to the older girl.

"Adam don't!" begged Sarah as she tried to stop her hand from shaking.

"Don't shoot," repeated Adam. "I just have to be sure." Clementine looked on in despair as Adam closed the gap between him and Sarah. He slowly extended his free hand out towards the gun in Sarah's hand while she shook in terror.

"I… I love you Sarah," cried Clem.

"I love you too," answered Sarah.

"It'll be okay," assured Adam as he placed his hand on top of the gun. "It—" A gunshot silenced Adam's plea and Clem was suddenly free from the boy's grip. The knife that was at her neck hit the ground, which Clementine immediately grabbed. Spinning around, she saw Adam reeling backwards, clutching a bleeding hole on the side of his chest.

"I… I… I'm sorry Adam," sobbed Sarah as she dropped the gun. "I'm so sorry." Sarah took OJ in both hands, trying to soothe the spooked infant while tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry…" Clementine sheathed her knife and grabbed her gun. She pointed it at Adam, who tried to turn around but fell onto his stomach.

Clementine lowered her gun as she watched Adam slowly crawl towards the door. He desperately gasped for breath, as if he was suffocating while he dragged himself across the ground, smearing blood all over the floor. Clem found herself approaching the wounded boy as he reached the door, almost drawn to him even.

He laid there, racked with pain as he tried to push the door open with his hand. Clem watched as he only managed to nudge it ajar slightly with a pathetic clumsy gesture. As Clem watched him try again and again to open the door, she noticed something.

Adam was wearing Nick's backpack. He must have stolen it right off his body after he died. Looking at the dying boy, Clem found herself suddenly wanting to return the favor. She holstered her gun, reached down and unhooked one of the pack's straps from Adam's arm, the boy croaking in pain as she did so.

"What… what are you doing?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"We'll need this to survive," reasoned Clem in a cold voice as she removed the backpack. "Get your stuff. We should leave before the gunshot draws walkers, or worse." Clementine set Nick's pack aside and collected her own. She repacked her radio, then stuffed the bottle and baby formula inside. She donned her raincoat, sheathed her tomahawk, then hoisted it and her pack onto her back. Clem turned to Sarah, who was just staring at a dying Adam.

"Sarah." The older girl hadn't even begun to collect her things. Instead, her gaze was fixated on Adam. "Sarah."

"I…" Sarah found herself unable to even speak.

"I know how bad it feels, but right now, we need to go, okay?" instructed Clem in a sympathetic voice. "Just, focus on getting your stuff. We have to get out of here." Sarah nodded weakly. Clem watched Sarah gently set Omid Jr on the ground while she collected her things.

As the older girl gathered her equipment, Clementine moved back to where Adam was lying on his back. He was gasping weakly while clutching the gunshot wound on his chest. Looking at the boy, Clem noticed something hanging out of his pocket. Reaching down, she discovered he had a fairly ornate flip lighter.

"This… this isn't the lighter Nick used," realized Clem. "This was Tom's lighter. He used it when he showed us how to use fireworks as a distraction." Clementine looked Adam in the eye. "That's where you got them. You took them right off Tom's body when you left."

Adam only wheezed in response. Clem pocketed the lighter, then dug around in Adam's other pocket, trying to see if he had anything else on him. Finding nothing she stood up and picked up Nick's bag. It was kinda heavy, so she dragged it behind her as she moved to the exit.

Pushing the door open, she didn't see any walkers in the immediate area. Looking back inside she saw Sarah heading towards the door. She had her raincoat, machete and backpack now, along with Omid Jr in her arms. She headed for the door, but paused as she neared Adam.

"Sarah, come on," prodded Clem.

"Can't… can't we do something to help him?" asked a tearful Sarah.

"Help him?" asked an indignant Clem. "He tried to kill me, and you, and he killed Nick and—"

"I know," sobbed Sarah. "But… look at him." Clementine looked down at Adam. With nothing left for her to take, all she saw was a bleeding, mutilated child covered in scars and rotted flesh. He kept gasping desperately for air, sounding more like a dying animal than a person, tears streaming down from his one remaining eye and onto the fetid filth he had smeared on his face.

"He's just a little boy." Despite everything he had done, Clementine couldn't stop herself from feeling sorry for Adam. Such a pitiful sight was the dying boy that Clem found she could no longer bear it and turned to Sarah. "Isn't there anything we can do for him?"

"There's… there's one thing." Clementine reluctantly pulled her gun.

"Oh God…" gasped Sarah. "It's… it's like my dad, isn't it?"

"Yeah," answered Clem in a quiet voice. "Just… go. I'll do it. And cover OJ's ears so the shot doesn't make him cry."

"I…" Sarah looked down at Adam, compelled to watch his suffering.

"Just go. You don't want to watch," assured Clementine with as much strength as she could muster.

"I… I'm sorry Adam." Sarah turned away and started walking down the highway. Clem aimed her gun at Adam's head and put her finger on the trigger.

"Just…" Clementine tried to think of something to say to the poor boy. "Just, close your eyes and think about your family."

"I… don't know… if I… can remember… what… they looked like."

"Just think about them," urged Clem. "You… you're going to be with them again real soon. Just, close your eyes and think about it, and then you'll be there." She watched the wounded boy shut his eye, listened as his panicked breathing slowed, then squeezed the trigger.

Clementine switched the safety back on and holstered her gun. She looked at Adam's lifeless body. The shot was clean in his head, his blood pooling onto the ground. Deciding she had seen enough, Clem closed the door to the rest stop and grabbed Nick's bag. She saw Sarah standing in the road, tightly clutching Omid Jr to her chest while covering one of his ears with her other hand.

Clem moved to the older girl's side. The pair just looked at each other for a moment, then started walking again. Clementine wanted to say something to Sarah, but no words came to mind. Instead she simply kept walking, focusing on the black asphalt stretched out before her for as far as she could see.

The road seemed to go on forever. She couldn't even see the end of it. Looking down it filled Clementine with fatigue, her every step becoming harder than the last. She wondered if she'd ever stop walking. Finding the road a tiring sight, Clem looked to Sarah. The older girl appeared miserable, tears still running down her face from her bloodshot eyes. But gazing upon the newborn tenderly cradled in her arms, Clementine felt the strength to continue.

She forced herself to keep putting one foot in front of another, regardless of how tired she felt. Clem's thoughts drifted back towards her conversation with Sarah, about finding a house. A whole home, just for them, and Omid Jr. It seemed distant, yet tangible in her mind, as if it was just waiting for them to discover it. She tried to imagine what a place like that would look like, but couldn't concentrate over a distant honking noise.

"What… what's that?" asked Sarah as Clem turned around. The noise seemed to be coming from back the way they came, and it was getting louder. Clem watched in horror as a pair of distant lights grew closer, and fast.

"It's… it's Shaffer's!" realized Clem. "We… we need to get out of the road." Clementine grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her into the wooded area bordering the highway. The pair ducked behind a tree and watched the road closely as they saw a vehicle approaching, blaring its horn every few seconds.

"We can't let them find us," reasoned a shaking Clementine as she drew her gun. She slid the magazine out and found it was empty. "Shit." Clem slid the magazine back in and clicked the safety off, remembering there was still a bullet left in the gun itself.

"Byron said they had to leave their truck," recalled Sarah as she watched the vehicle grow nearer.

"Maybe they got it back," said Clem. "Just stay down."

"Why would they be honking their horn?" pondered Sarah.

"Maybe they're using it to distract the walkers or something?"

"But if they were trying to find us, why would they make so much noise, where we could hear them from so far away?"

"I don't know, but—" Clementine felt her stomach drop as she watched Sarah run out from cover and into the road. "Sarah don't!" Sarah didn't listen, running right into the vehicle's path. Clementine gripped her gun tightly as she watched the vehicle slow to a stop, Sarah standing right in its headlights.

It wasn't a truck, it looked more like a bus. The front of it was covered in splattered gore. Clem also noticed the word 'Brave' stamped on the front in large raised letters. She watched as its door swung open and a pair of small steps extended from the vehicle. Clem took aim at the figure standing in the door from the safe cover of the trees, but then a familiar voice called her name.

"Clementine?"

"Christa!"


	89. No Going Back

Clementine holstered her gun and ran out from cover towards Christa as she stumbled out of the vehicle. Clem threw her arms around the woman, who responded in kind.

"You were trying to find us," realized Sarah. "That's why you were honking the horn."

"Yeah, I woke up and you two were gone," recounted Christa. "I went to get the truck and when I saw you hadn't taken it I figured if you were still alive, and you'd be moving out of town on the road like Nick said we should."

"This… this is a truck?" asked Clem.

"Let's talk on the road." Clem headed up the steps and found herself emerging into a spacious carpeted area. It was like stepping into a living room built into a bus. Pete didn't find a truck, he found an RV, and a huge one at that. "I just realized," said Christa as she moved towards the front.

"Neither of you know how to drive."

"I do," answered Sarah as she closed the door. "Kinda. Ed taught me how to drive one of the trucks, back at Shaffer's."

"Well that'll do," figured Christa. "Go ahead and take the wheel. Not like there are many other drivers to worry about these days." Sarah carefully handed Omid Jr to Christa, who clutched her son to her chest. "You took care of him," said Christa with a smile as Sarah removed her backpack, machete and raincoat.

"So, where are we going?" asked Sarah as she sat down in the driver's seat.

"Let's just stay on this road for a while," instructed Christa. "Right now we just need to put some distance between us and Shaffer's." Christa reached down and pulled a lever. "Don't forget the parking brake."

"Right, sorry." Clem watched as Sarah shifted a lever and slowly pressed down on one of the pedals with her foot. The engine hummed to life and the vehicle started moving forward.

"Keep it about twenty-five," suggested Christa. "Lot of busted cars on the road these days, we don't want to run into one."

"I'll go slow," assured Sarah as she clutched the wheel tightly. Clementine took off her backpack and set it next to Nick's, then slipped off her raincoat. She looked at the RV's interior in disbelief. There was a couch right next to the door, a small two seat dining table across from it. Beyond that was a kitchen with a stove, sink, refrigerator and microwave.

Clem moved to the sink and turned on the faucet. Much to her surprise, water started coming out. She turned the faucet off and moved to the refrigerator. There were jugs of water inside, but they weren't cold, nor was the inside of the fridge. She stretched up to press a button on the microwave, but nothing happened. It didn't appear to have power.

"How come the fridge and microwave don't work?" asked Clem.

"I don't know Clem," shrugged Christa. "I've never even stepped foot in an RV before tonight."

"I did once, but it wasn't nearly as big as this one." Clementine moved to an ajar closet door next and slid it open. She was surprised by how big the interior was, but also confused by the closet's contents. There was a propane tank, some long pieces of tubing with nozzles, a garden hose, some funnels, and assorted tools scattered about inside. "What's this stuff?"

"Not sure. I found most of it lying outside," explained Christa. "There were also some manuals and maps lying in the driver's seat. I think Pete was fixing it, or getting it ready to use. Maybe he never got around to the fridge or the microwave, I don't know. I just figured if Pete was using it, you might need it later, so I tossed it in here." Looking at the shelf in the closet, Clem saw several rows of canned goods and more water stacked up. She also saw Christa's backpack sitting next to the shelf.

"Pete must have been storing food here, for when he left," realized a saddened Clementine.

"Yeah, that was my guess too," said Christa. "What better place to horde things than one you can just take with you." Clem closed the closet and moved to the next door. She found a small bathroom, complete with toilet and shower. Sliding open the door at the end of the hall, Clementine found a large bed sitting in front of her.

"This… this is like a whole house," spoke Clem in disbelief.

"Yeah, it's quite a find. Thing looked almost new before I ran over some walkers getting out of town," quipped Christa. "No wonder Pete didn't want to tell anyone about it. People would literally kill for this thing."

"Yeah," realized an uneasy Clem. "They would." Christa moaned softly as she moved away from the bedroom. "Are you okay?"

"I… I just need to rest for a minute." Christa sat down on the couch. She tried to comfort Omid Jr, who was still crying softly.

"He's been crying for a while," noted Clem as she sat down. "I don't know what's wrong."

"He's probably hungry again," informed Christa. "I… I wish I could feed him, but…"

"But?"

"But I'm afraid whatever is in that bite would kill him if I did." Christa sighed as she looked down at her son. "God, I barely get any time with him at all and I can't even do something as simple as feed him?"

"I… I think we found something that'll help with that." Clementine retrieved her backpack.

"Is that Nick's pack?" asked Christa as she gestured to the one behind Clem's.

"Yeah, it was," noted Clem in a sad voice.

"I guess you two found Matt then," realized Christa.

"It wasn't him, it was Adam," spoke Clem as she sat down.

"Adam?" repeated Christa in confusion. "Wait. The younger boy? The one with the scars?"

"Yeah, he was the one attacking us."

"Why?" asked Christa. "What did we do to him?"

"He said we had food, and he couldn't risk asking us for it."

"Jesus…" Christa looked horrified as she thought about what Clem said. "So, does that mean you had to…" Clem looked away from Christa. "Oh Clem, God, I'm so sorry."

"She did it," whispered Clem as she looked at Sarah.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah, to save me."

"Oh, that's… I don't even know what to say to that." Clementine unzipped her backpack. She removed the baby bottle and container of formula. "Is that—where did you get that?"

"We were walking, and there was this car with a car seat in it," explained Clem. "We looked inside, and there was a bag with baby stuff in it, probably for somebody else."

"You're unbelievable," smiled Christa. "It's only been like an hour and you already got the makings of a great parent."

"Actually, Sarah was the one who noticed the car seat. I didn't even think about that. And, I couldn't stop Adam either. I—"

"Like Walter said, no one is an island Clem. We all need help sometimes, and there's no shame in that."

"But, what if there's something me and Sarah can't do, then what?"

"Then you might have to find more help."

"I… I'm not sure I want to look for people anymore," confessed a nervous Clem. "When I saw those lights, I figured it must be Shaffer's and I should just hide. I… I was so afraid they'd take me back there."

"I know just how you feel Clem," assured Christa in an empathetic tone. "For now, with this, and the food Pete left us, you and Sarah will probably be okay by yourselves, at least for a while."

"What about after that?"

"Just do your best," said Christa with a smirk. "You two are a couple of bright kids. And with knowing how to get past the walkers now, you can probably get food pretty easily as long as you're careful."

"What if there's something we need to do that we can't and we need to find someone else? How can we know if they will actually help us and not just lie to us or hurt us?"

"Well, if you meet someone, think about what they want, and why they're offering to help you. Ask yourself, what are they getting out of it? And be careful what you tell people. If someone does want to hurt you, what you say to them might let them know if they could or not.

"I wouldn't tell anyone that you're just two girls with a baby if I were you, at least not when you first meet them. To the wrong person, that would probably sound like an easy target."

"Maybe we shouldn't look for people at all."

"You're both still really young, and Junior here is just a baby. If you can, I'd just stay on your own for as long as possible, give yourselves some time to grow and learn. The longer the better. But, if there comes a point where you can't go on just the two of you, then take a chance on people, like Omid did the day we met."

"But, how do I know when it's time to do that?"

"Just use your best judgement Clem. It's always a gamble, but sometimes it pays off." Christa smiled at Clem, which elicited a small smile from Clem. "Here, let's get him something to eat."

Clem held onto Omid Jr as Christa prepared a bottle for him. Clem asked her about boiling water and Christa said it's just to make sure it's safe. Christa washed her hands with soap from the bathroom, and held Omid Jr while Clem washed hers and her face. It felt good to clean away the dirt and grime.

After that Christa washed out the bottle Clem found and opened the package of formula. Clem watched Christa fill the bottle with the water in the fridge after briefly smelling and tasting it to be sure it was clean. Then she scooped in some formula and shook up the bottle.

As Christa prepared to feed Omid Jr, she noticed a bit of pink fabric around her son's head. Pulling the jacket back a bit she saw the pink baby clothes Sarah had dressed him in earlier.

"What's this?" asked an amused Christa.

"We found that with the rest of the baby stuff," explained Clem. "Sorry it's not a boy's color." Christa chuckled as she removed the jacket and looked at the rest of the outfit.

"If Omid was here, he'd be having so much fun with this," chuckled Christa as she removed Omid Jr from Sarah's jacket. "Is he wearing a diaper?"

"It was with the other stuff. Sarah changed him."

"Well, how bout you be the one to feed him then?" Christa offered the bottle to Clementine.

"Are you sure it's okay? Sarah gave me some cold medicine, but I think I might still be sick."

"I'll hold him, just be sure to not touch the part of the bottle he drinks from." Clementine took the bottle and carefully moved the end of it to Omid Jr's mouth. She watched as he latched onto to nipple and started feeding. Clementine couldn't help smiling upon hearing the soft suckling noises Omid Jr made as he drank from the bottle.

"He… he's so little," noted a tickled Clementine.

"Still think Lee shouldn't have come after you?" asked Christa with a smirk.

"No, but…" Clem's smiled faded. "I still wish he was here. And my parents. And everyone else. And I wish you could…" Looking up from Omid Jr, Clementine saw Christa was hunched over in her seat, as if she had fallen asleep suddenly.

"Christa?" There was no response. Clementine set the bottle down and quickly grabbed Omid Jr. "Sarah, stop the car!" Clem reached for her gun as she felt the RV slow to a stop. Sarah set the parking brake and ran to Clem's side.

"Is… is she dead?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"Christa?" asked a desperate Clem as she raised her gun and clicked the safety off. "Christa, please, say something." Clementine listened as she heard Christa let out a low moan. Tears started forming in the young girl's eyes as her finger moved to the trigger. "Christa…"

"I… I hear you Clem," moaned Christa in a weak voice. Clem breathed a sigh of relief and put her gun away. "I think it's time for me to get off." Christa slowly stood up.

"I… I still have a bullet left," spoke a torn Clem. "I could—"

"No Clem," said Christa.

"I could do it. I—"

"I know you can, I just don't want you to," explained Christa. "I don't know what exactly happened with Lee, but I know you don't need to do something like that this time. I'll just get off, and you keep going, just like I said."

"You'll be one of them," reminded a saddened Clem.

"I'll just be one in a billion," dismissed Christa. "I ran over more than enough of them to make up for that. Besides, this is what I want."

"You want to be a walker?" asked Clem in disbelief.

"I want to see you two off," clarified Christa. "If the last thing I ever see is watching you two drive off with my son, I think I'll die happy."

"Oh… okay," conceded a conflicted Clementine.

"Although, you said this was Nick's pack?" Clem nodded. Christa dug around in the bag, locating the bottle of whiskey Nick had passed around earlier. "You two wouldn't mind if I finally tried this stuff would you?"

"Take all you want," insisted a tearful Clem. Christa removed the cap and took a long swig off the bottle.

"Whoa." Christa screwed the cap back on. "He wasn't kidding, that is good stuff." Christa placed the bottle back into the pack. "You remember what I told you about drinking though?"

"Only on my birthday, and maybe special occasions," recited Clementine.

"And make sure there's nothing important you need to do before you have a drink either," added Christa. "You've got responsibilities now, so, drink responsibly."

"I will," promised Clem.

"Also, the alcohol in it could clean cuts and wounds," informed Christa. "In case you can't find anything better. Remember that."

"I will," assured Sarah.

"And like I said, there were some manuals and maps Pete left in here which I put in the glove box. I'd read them. I'm sure if he set them aside it was for a good reason."

"We will," assured Clementine.

"In fact, you should just read as much as you can," realized Christa. "You're both young and have a lot to learn. You're smart girls, but that doesn't mean you can't be smarter."

"I'll read everything I find," assured Sarah.

"And try to take care of this RV. If you can keep it running, you'll have a roof over your head for a long time, no matter where you go. Even if you find somewhere to stay, I'd keep a stash of supplies in here, in case you ever needed to leave in a hurry."

"We'll do that," said Clem.

"I'd also park it somewhere out of sight anytime you stop. Pete was real tight lipped about this because he'd knew people would try and take it if they saw it," explained Christa. "Shaffer's isn't the only place that would want it."

"I know," nodded a weary Clem.

"And make sure you keep the keys somewhere you both know about, and where no one else would think to look," instructed Christa. "And always keep it locked up. You don't want someone just strolling in and taking everything you've stored in here."

"We'll keep it safe," assured Sarah.

"And… have fun," suggested Christa in a jovial voice.

"What?" asked Clem.

"I was trying to think of something funny to say like Omid would, but I'm terrible at it." Christa leaned in close and put her hand on Clem. "But, you know what? Do. Do have fun. You know what I've regretted most ever since Omid died?"

Clementine pondered Christa's question. "Was it, you didn't tell him you loved him more?"

Christa sighed upon hearing that. "I regret that a lot, but the one thing I regret more is all the times he was trying to get a laugh out of me or wanted me to loosen up, and I just told him 'stop it', or 'not now', or 'later.

"What I wouldn't give to go back and do just a handful of those moments differently. To tell him how much I loved it when he did things like that… most of the time." Clem couldn't stop herself from snickering, despite feeling like crying.

"And what I wouldn't give to go back and make more of an effort to make you happy too Clem. Help cheer you up when you needed it most."

"You always made me feel safe," consoled Clem.

"Yeah, but you needed more than that. I don't have to tell you how bad things are, but when things aren't bad, that's when you need to just seize the moment and remember why you're staying alive. Because there might not be a later, so when you see a chance, don't wait, be happy, have fun, however you can."

"I… I will." Christa turned to Sarah.

"You too Sarah. I can only imagine how horrible all of this must be for you, but it won't always be that way." Sarah sniffled as Christa talked to her. "Just hang in there, and there'll come a day when you'll be happy again."

"I… I'll try." Christa turned back to Clem.

"Even if I wasn't bitten, I don't think I'd have enough time to tell you just how proud I am of you. You're such an amazing young woman."

"Only because you helped me," said Clem. "And Lee, and Sarah, and lots of people."

"Don't sell yourself short Clem. You didn't get here just because of us, and I'm sure you'll go far without me."

"I… I don't want to though," confessed Clem. "I'll… I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too Clem." Clementine carefully handed Omid Jr to Sarah, then hugged Christa. "And I love you." Christa kissed Clem's forehead.

"I love you too." Christa let go of Clem and reached into her hair. She pulled out a brown elastic hair tie and handed it to the girl.

"Here, for when your hair grows back," smiled Christa.

"I'll keep it forever, I promise," said Clem as she closed her hand around the tie.

"And Junior," said Christa in a more reserved voice as she knelt down to talk to her son. "I'm sorry your mom and dad won't be there for you. But, we both loved you." Christa kissed Omid Jr on his forehead. "You two tell him that when he's old enough."

"We will," assured Sarah.

"And Sarah, what the hell, I love you too." Christa kissed Sarah on the forehead, much to her surprise.

"You do?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. When you said you'd take care of my son, despite the fact you barely even know me, I can't tell you how touched I was," said a choked up Christa. "I didn't get along with your father but—" Sarah started sobbing. "Hey, hey." Christa placed her hand on Sarah's cheek. "He had to be doing something right to raise a sweet girl like you."

"You… you really think so?" asked a crying Sarah.

"Definitely," smirked Christa. "He'd be proud of you." Christa turned to Clem. "And I'm sure Lee and your parents would be proud of you too Clem."

"I'll try," sobbed Clem. "I'll try to make them proud."

"You already have." Clementine felt her heart sink as Christa moved to the door. She watched the woman walk down the steps and out onto the road, where she slowly turned back to the entrance. Christa took the door in hand, but didn't close it. Instead, she looked up at the two girls holding her son and smiled.

"You two take care of each other," spoke Christa in a warm voice. "And little Omid." Christa disappeared from view as she pushed the door close, which Clementine just stared at in disbelief. It seemed unthinkable to her that Christa was simply gone now. She felt a sudden overwhelming urge to race back to the door and throw it open, just to see her one more time, but then she heard Sarah's voice.

"Clem." Clementine turned to Sarah, who carefully handed Omid Jr to her. The young girl took the baby in her arms, then watched as Sarah sat down in the driver's seat. She wiped her eyes before releasing the parking brake, then spurred the vehicle to life as she put it into drive.

As the RV moved forward, Clem found herself moving backwards. She raced to the end of the hall, into the bedroom and right to the back window. Looking out, Clementine briefly saw Christa waving goodbye to them, just before disappearing from view. Clem looked down at Omid Jr, then moved back to the front of the RV and sat down next to Sarah.

Clem opened her hand and looked at the hair tie Christa gave her. She felt herself tearing up just looking at it, so she placed the tie in her pocket. Clem then looked down at little Omid and adjusted her grip on him, taking great care to cradle him gently. Clem then looked up through the windshield and saw it was nearly morning now, the sun rising in the horizon.

"What do we do now?" asked a bewildered Sarah.

"Just drive," answered Clem in a quiet voice. "For now, just drive."


	90. Family

A girl garbed in a dark green raincoat smeared with gore carefully approached a small supermarket. She took a moment to adjust her ski goggles so they fit over her ski mask more snugly, then slowly crept across the parking lot to the front of the store.

She stopped at the door and grasped a small sports bottle clipped to her belt. She removed a wadded up piece of paper from the bottle then sealed it. She placed a gloved hand on the door while clutching the bottle in the other. Slowly she pulled the door open, then started shaking the bottle, which rattled loudly in her hand. After a few seconds she relented, then scanned the area to see if anyone was approaching.

Not a soul in sight. She replaced the paper and clipped the bottle back to her belt. She switched on a lantern and carefully stepped into the store. Standing before the aisles, she took a moment to remove her backpack, taking great care not to drop the tomahawk hanging from her shoulder.

She quickly darted down the aisles, collecting a few cans of each food that remained before moving to the next shelf. She stopped at a sales rack full of batteries and stuffed a few packs into her bag. Moving through the personal hygiene aisle, she stopped in front of a shelf full of small boxes. She read the labels and packed one box into her bag.

Zipping up her bag, she threw it on her back and ran to the front door. The girl darted across the parking lot as fast as she could and reached the street without incident. Looking back at the parking lot, she saw no signs of trouble, but she did notice a shopping cart. She studied it for a moment, then had an idea.

The masked girl took off her backpack and tossed it into the shopping cart, along with her tomahawk, then placed the lantern in the baby seat. She took hold of the cart and pushed it into the store. She revisited the aisles she visited before, grabbing more of everything she took.

She strolled through the building, searching for more things she could scavenge, then stopped abruptly when she noticed a pair of double doors. After a quick application of the noisy sports bottle, the girl pushed the cart through the doors and found herself in a storage area. There were several pallets of goods, far too many for her to carry.

She looked up and down the area, trying to settle on something to take. before stopping in front of a stack of bottled waters. She tried to lift one of the packs of water, but it slipped from her hands as she pulled it from the stack. Quickly determining that no one was coming in response to the noise, the girl removed a knife from her belt.

She cut open the packing and piled the bottled waters into the cart a couple at a time. She also approached a couple of stacks of canned goods, taking some time to remove some cans from each and placing them in the cart. Pushing on the cart, the masked girl found it incredibly heavy now, requiring great effort to move.

The girl removed some of the water and canned goods, then moved back into the store. She located a can opener and a novelty spoon and quickly returned to the storage area. The girl sat down on the floor and opened a can of peas. She rested for a moment, eating peas. catching her breath, drinking some water, then stood up and placed the can opener and spoon into her bag.

Pushing on the cart again, it still felt heavy, but was at least manageable now. She pushed the cart out of the store, past the parking lot, and back onto the road. The girl briefly checked her compass, then continued on. As she pushed the cart, the masked girl constantly eyed the sides of the road, concerned the rattling of the cart would attract attention.

It was a very long walk on an empty stretch of road, made all the longer with the need to push the cart along. With every step the masked girl felt the noise of the cart would provoke some kind of attack from the dead, or worse, the living. The girl eventually began to breathe easier as she saw signs of civilization again, or what remained of it as she finally arrived on the outskirts of a small suburban neighborhood.

A sudden rustling sound stopped the girl in her tracks. She let go of the cart and placed her hand on her gun. Looking to her left, she saw a walker about thirty feet away in an overgrown hedge bordering a house. Watching it free itself from the shrubbery, the girl realized it must have come right out the window when it heard the noise. Seeing nothing else dangerous, the girl took her hand off her holster and removed the tomahawk from the shopping cart.

She moved beside the walker, her bloody raincoat concealing her scent as she circled behind the clueless corpse. She swung the tomahawk into the walker's ankle, causing it to collapse onto the ground. Before it even realized what was happening, the girl flipped her tomahawk over in her hands and brought the knife end down into the walker's skull.

With the walker dead, the girl quickly scanned the area, making sure no others were coming. Seeing none, she took a moment to search the dead's pockets. Her first discovery was a wallet. Looking through it, the girl found some plastic cards, some photos, and some money. She took the money, then put the wallet back in the walker's pants.

Searching the other pocket produced a bundle of keys. Looking over from the direction the walker came, she noticed the house it likely emerged from. Double checking to make sure no one was nearby, the girl moved to the shopping cart. She emptied her bag's contents into the cart, then slipped the pack onto her back.

Approaching the modest two-story dwelling, the girl tried the door. It was locked. Quickly flipping through the keyring, the girl selected what she hoped was a house key. It fit and a quick turn unlocked the door. The girl pocketed the keys and pulled the door open. She employed the noisy bottle again, then stepped inside.

Moving into the kitchen, the girl checked the cupboards. They were mostly empty, as if someone had cleaned them out, but there were a few canned goods in the back. The girl started packing them into her bag, but stopped when she noticed something.

She looked at an appliance sitting on the kitchen counter with the word 'Cuisinart' stamped on the front of it. Examining it closer, the appliance appeared to be a blender, but much stockier. Turning away from the Cuisinart, the girl looked at her bag, then emptied out the cans of food she had just packed.

She took her pack in hand and headed into the living room. The first thing she noticed was the bookshelf. She scanned the titles carefully before deciding on a couple of select books to take. Noticing a handheld radio on top of the bookshelf, the girl quickly scaled the shelves and grabbed it, stowing it in her bag.

Moving into the garage, the girl located a fairly large truck. She climbed into the driver's seat and tried the one key that looked like it was for a car. Turning it slightly she heard an electronic beeping. Turning it fully she heard an engine try to roar to life, which prompted her to hastily turn the key back. The girl quickly abandoned the truck and headed back into the house, going upstairs this time.

She entered what appeared to be a master bedroom. Some of the dresser drawers were empty, but the ones that weren't only contained clothes too big for her. The girl looked under the bed next, and found nothing. Digging through the closet, she found a small ornate box. The box was mostly empty, but there were a couple of pieces of jewelry sitting on the bottom. The girl removed a single gold necklace with a small red heart at the end of it, and carefully placed it in her pocket.

Moving into another bedroom, the girl located a portable CD player. It had a plug, but examining the back, the girl noticed there was a battery compartment as well. The compartment was empty, but the girl recognized the kind of batteries it needed. She placed the player in her bag, then looked at a shelf full of CD's.

She wasn't sure which ones she should take, so she grabbed a couple at random. She did notice one labeled 'Best of 70's Supergroups' and made sure to grab it. Pulling another CD from the stack, the girl studied its cover. There was a woman in white playing with two young girls in a sunny meadow. The girl shrugged and placed the disc in her bag.

Turning away from the CD's, the girl also honed in on an unusually thick chessboard lying on a shelf across from her. Examining it more closely, she noticed a small drawer tucked into the board. Pulling it out revealed a complete set of black chess pieces, which the girl pushed back into the board.

She tucked the board under her arm and continued her search. She quickly checked the bathroom, but found nothing extraordinary. At the end of the hall was another bedroom, which seemed to belong to someone much younger. The girl located a pack of colored pencils and a box of markers. She weighed the items in her hands for a moment, then simply stowed both of them in her bag, along with a pad of drawing paper.

Zipping up her bag proved difficult as it was now nearly overstuffed. With some effort, she managed to close it, then put it on her back. She took the chessboard under her arm and was ready to leave, but then noticed a pile of stuffed animals in the corner.

She found them all fairly appealing, but as she looked over the veritable plush menagerie, she couldn't help focusing on a stuffed elephant. She wasn't sure why, but she couldn't stop looking at it. Maybe it was the big ears or the long trunk, but the girl found her free hand gravitating towards it. She took the elephant and headed back outside.

She placed her pack in the cart along with the chessboard and the elephant. Then started pushing the cart again. It was heavier now, but the girl figured she didn't have long to go. After a short, if not slow trek back, the girl arrived in front of a small house with a chimney.

She pushed the cart around the side of the house and into the backyard. Parked under a large tree was an almost as large RV. The girl pushed the cart up to the door of the RV, then approached the house. She headed to the back porch and stooped down by the stairs, where she removed a set of keys hidden underneath the bottom step.

Unlocking the RV, the girl toted several canned goods inside and stored them in a closet near the back. She then stored several bottles of water, as well as a pack of batteries. The girl left the RV, locked the door and returned the keys to under the porch.

She pushed the well over half full cart back towards the front of the house and approached the door. She knocked twice, then once. The girl pulled back the hood on her raincoat as she waited for an answer. She listened to the locks click for a few seconds then watched the door crack open slightly, revealing a familiar pair of brown eyes.

"You're back," spoke a relieved Sarah. "I was getting worried because you were gone so long."

"That's because I got a lot of stuff today," explained a cheerful Clementine as she removed her ski mask and goggles.

"Really?" said Sarah.

"Yeah, and not just food and water this time. I got some cool things too," boasted an eager Clem. "Open the garage door and I'll bring it in."

Sarah closed and locked the front door while Clem pushed the cart towards the garage, taking care not to knock over any of the buckets or bottles Sarah set out to catch rainwater. She gave the older girl a hand opening the garage door, then pushed the shopping cart inside. Clem switched on the lantern as Sarah closed and locked the door.

"Wow," awed Sarah as she looked at the shopping cart.

"I know," said Clem as she hung up her raincoat, ski mask and goggles. "And there's lots more in that store we saw on the way here. Way too much for me to carry in one trip."

"Did you find any baby formula?" asked Sarah as she started unloading the cart.

"Not yet," reported Clem as she put her tomahawk up next to Sarah's machete. "How much do we have left?"

"About half a container," answered Sarah as she stacked some canned goods on a shelf.

"How long will that last?" asked Clem as she helped Sarah offload.

"Probably about a week," said Sarah while arranging some bottled waters on another shelf.

"That's it?"

"He eats a lot."

"Okay, well now that we got enough food for a while, we should work on getting more for OJ," reasoned Clem. "Also, I want to make sure the RV is ready to go."

"You want to leave already?" asked Sarah as she collected a couple of cans. "I was thinking if we found more formula, we could just stay here for a while."

"I just want to be ready, in case something happens," explained Clementine. "Plus, if there's no formula here, we'll have to drive somewhere else to find it."

"Okay, that makes sense," conceded Sarah. "I was reading the manual and checking out some of the stuff on it today. There's actually a gas generator in it. That's what powers the fridge and microwave."

"And the oven, right?"

"No, the oven uses a propane tank. So does the heater, including the one for the water."

"Propane?"

"Yeah, there's a whole built in tank for it on the RV," explained Sarah. "There's also three water tanks. One to put water in, one the sink and shower drains into and one the toilet drains into. And the engine is diesel, but it looks different from a lot of other parts. Like someone added it later."

"Do you think Pete did that?"

"It was probably whoever owned it before. The engine looks way too big and complicated for just one person to change."

"The whole RV sounds complicated."

"It's not so bad. It's kinda cool actually. Although, I do like this house."

"Well, if we find some formula, we could stay here, at least until we use up all the food," reasoned Clem. "There's almost no walkers here or even bodies. Also, there's almost no cars in the driveways of most of the houses, or on the roads. And this one house I checked today, some of the clothes in the drawers were gone. Like somebody packed. I think most of the people who lived here before went somewhere else."

"Like they were evacuated or something?"

"Maybe."

"To where?"

"I don't know. But after I get a few more carts of food, I think I'll start checking all the houses. See if I can find out."

"Maybe they went somewhere safe," suggested a hopeful Sarah.

"Maybe, or maybe they ended up somewhere bad." Looking at Sarah, Clem realized that suggestion may have scared her a little. "But, we'll worry about that later."

"Yeah, let's do that."

Clementine reached into a mostly empty cart and removed a box from the bottom. "Oh, I got that thing you asked for. Tam—"

Sarah snatched the box from Clem. "Thanks," she said in a meek voice as she headed out of the garage.

"Are you ever going to tell me why you need those?"

"Um, someday…" spoke an embarrassed Sarah. "When you're older." Sarah left the garage while Clementine gathered her backpack, along with the chessboard and the elephant. She moved into the living room and dumped her stuff on the floor, then headed over to the fireplace.

Sarah had already stacked some wood made from cut up furniture. Clem removed a lighter from her pocket, then some folded dollar bills. She laid them under the wood and used her lighter to burn them. The flames spread to the wood and before long there was a cozy fire going.

Clem then picked up the stuffed elephant and headed towards a crib in the corner. She looked down at Omid Jr, resting under his covers. Clem dusted off the elephant, making sure it was clean, the laid it in Omid Jr's crib.

"Hi OJ," said Clem in a quiet but sweet voice. "I found someone to keep you company. I hope you like him." Clem leaned down and kissed Omid Jr's forehead. "I love you." Clem left Omid Jr to rest and collected her backpack as she strolled into the dining room.

Approaching the dining room table, Clem set out the books, radio, CD player, CD's, colored pencils, markers and paper. Looking at her spoils, Clem first decided to retrieve some batteries for the radio and CD player. She went back to the garage to grab some, also stopping to grab her own radio. Approaching the dinner table, Clem saw Sarah admiring their spoils.

"Wow. You did get a lot of stuff."

"Yeah, and look at this." Clementine loaded some batteries into the new radio, then switched it on. She changed the channel, then handed it to Sarah. "Try it," suggested Clem as she turned her own radio on.

"Hello?" Sarah heard her voice come out of Clem's radio. "Now we can stay in touch while we're out."

"Yeah, but we shouldn't call the person who is out, the noise might cause problems," warned Clem as she turned her radio off. "And we should keep them both off when we're together, to save batteries."

"Right." Sarah switched her radio off. "It's just for emergencies."

"Well, not just emergencies. If I'm out, you just need to wait until I call you, so you know I'm somewhere safe to talk," explained Clem. "Next time I'm out for a while, I'll call you to let you know I'm okay."

"I'd like that."

"And if you see something, then you can warn me about it."

"I thought I saw someone today."

"You did?" asked Clementine, unnerved by this news.

"Yeah, but it was just a lurker." Clem breathed a sigh of relief. "I killed it."

"Did anything else happen while I was gone?"

"Not really. I fed Omid a couple of times and burped him. And I did some laundry. I think I finally got my jacket clean. Although, it's getting warmer."

"Yeah, it figures I finally find a jacket that fits me after it stops being cold," commented Clem as she unzipped her own jacket.

"Well, at least you got it for next winter."

"By then I'll probably have outgrown this one," quipped Clem.

"Well, then maybe you can borrow mine when that happens." Clem smiled at Sarah. She looked at the purple sweater the older girl was wearing and thought something was missing.

"Oh, I got this, just for you." Clementine removed the necklace from her pocket. "I think it'd look really good on you." Clem approached Sarah and strung the piece of jewelry around the older girl's neck. Taking a step back, Clem admired the heart draped in front of Sarah's purple sweater.

"You… you look beautiful Sarah," complimented Clem.

"Thanks Clem." Sarah turned back to the table and picked up one of the books. "What to expect the first year.' I'll start reading this right away."

"Well, I got you this one too." Clementine slid a book with a rural fantasy village on the cover towards Sarah. "I thought you might like something to read other than the encyclopedias we found here."

"Actually, a lot of that stuff is really interesting," said Sarah as she thumbed through the parenting book. "I looked up the sun today, to see if it takes a billion years for it to explode or not."

"Does it?" asked Clem, somewhat anxious for the answer.

"No."

"How… how long does it take?"

"Five," answered Sarah.

"Five years?" asked a horrified Clem.

"Five billion years." Clem looked at Sarah in confusion for a moment, then laughed.

"Yeah, so, we really don't need to worry about that anytime soon." Sarah chuckled a few times, then started crying. She covered her eyes and looked away from Clem.

"Sarah…"

"I'm sorry," she said as she tried to force herself to stop crying. "I'll stop. It's just…"

"Sarah," repeated Clementine as she moved in front of the forlorn older girl.

"I know, I know, I gotta be strong," recited Sarah as she tried to swallow her sadness.

"No." Sarah looked at Clem in surprise. "You don't have to be strong right now, just…" Clem thought to herself for a moment. "Just let it all out."

Sarah threw her arms around Clementine and started crying loudly. Clem grasped the older girl as tightly as she could, moving her hand up and down her back to help soothe her.

"It's okay Sarah," whispered a sympathetic Clem. "It's okay."

"I… I just can't stop thinking about him," sobbed Sarah.

"I know, I still think about my parents sometimes."

"Does… does it ever stop hurting?"

"I… I don't know," confessed a saddened Clementine. "But, it does get a little easier the longer it's been."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and it helps a lot to talk about it too. So, anytime you want to tell me about it, I'm right here, whenever you need me."

"Th… thanks Clem," spoke Sarah as she tightened her grip on the younger girl. "I… I don't even have a picture of him."

"I don't have any of my parents, or anyone I cared about," realized a dismayed Clementine. "But, I was thinking about drawing some pictures of them, so I'd have something to remember them by."

"I'm not very good at drawing things."

"My drawings are kinda messy. But, if you draw it yourself, anytime you look at it, you'll remember the person in the drawing and what they looked like."

"Really?"

"Yeah, when I look at my drawings, I don't just see the picture I made, I see their faces too, and…" Clem took a deep breath. "It actually makes me feel a little better. Like they're not really gone, as long as I keep remembering them."

"Oh, that reminds me." Sarah let go of Clementine and moved to a shelf in the living room. "I was digging around in the attic today, and I found this." Sarah handed Clementine a photo album.

"What is it?"

"Open it." Clementine opened the cover and saw her drawing of Lee carefully placed on the first page. "It was empty, so I thought you could keep your drawings in it." Clementine turned the page. On one side she saw her drawing of Kenny, Katjaa and Duck, and on the right was the photo Sarah had taken of Clem back at the cabin. She ran her fingers over the picture, noting the wide smile on her face.

"I… I'll need to make some more to put in here," suggested Clem.

"And I found something else you might like in the attic."

Clementine closed the album and set it down. "What?"

"I put it in the bathroom, along with your hat." Clementine headed into the bathroom. She saw her hat sitting on the counter near the sink. Picking it up, Clem noticed Sarah had washed it. There were still a few stains on it, but otherwise it looked almost new.

Clementine picked up a toothbrush, dabbed it in a cup of water then applied some toothpaste. She methodically brushed her teeth, but stopped when she felt a soreness near one. Reaching for the offending tooth, she discovered a tiny application of force caused it to pop right out of her mouth.

Clementine looked at the baby tooth for a moment, a little surprised it was free of her mouth. She pondered what to do with it. There seemed to be no point in putting it under her pillow anymore, yet it felt wrong to just throw it away. Instead, she set it on the counter and figured she could think of something later.

Clem finished brushing her teeth and rinsed out her mouth. She was about to collect her hat, but then she noticed what Sarah had left out for her. Clem found a bright red dress hanging on the shower rod. She looked at it in disbelief for a moment before moving closer. The dress appeared to be about her size and the fabric looked very fine.

Clem removed her gun and knife and then pulled the lowest drawer out of the counter. Carefully she set her weapons inside the space under where the drawer sits, then replaced the drawer. Clementine then quickly changed out of her clothes and grabbed the dress. Putting it on, she found it was a little big for her, but only slightly. Walking over to the mirror, she stopped to admire her reflection.

There was still a mark on her nose from where it had been broken, and a large scar on her left arm from the dog bite. Clem looked at Christa's hair tie sitting next to the sink, eager for the day her hair was long enough to use it. And putting her hat on Clem couldn't ignore the small bits of smeared blood on it that Sarah couldn't get out.

But, Clementine liked what she saw in the mirror. It wasn't perfect, but it was good. Better than good really, she felt great. Clem left the bathroom, a certain spring in her step as she came back into the living room. Seeing Sarah sitting at the dining room table, Clem carefully sneaked up behind the older girl and placed her arms around her

"I love it," Clem whispered in Sarah's ear. "Thank you so much."

"I'm glad you like it, but I just found it," reasoned Sarah as she looked down at the piece of paper she was writing on.

"Are you drawing a picture of your dad?" asked Clem as she released Sarah.

"No, I'm making a list of things we need, and trying to put them in order of how important they are," explained Sarah as she continued writing. "Right now more formula is the most important thing, then diesel for the RV so we can keep moving," listed Sarah. "After that I'm kinda guessing. The RV needs things like oil, and maybe antifreeze, and other stuff. And we probably should get some gas cans and fuel stabilizer."

"Okay, I'll start looking for things like that next time I go out."

"And, if we do get enough formula to stay here for a while, I was thinking we should start a garden in the backyard. So we'd need seeds, watering cans, shovels, fertilizer…" Clementine watched as Sarah hastily scribbled things onto the list, frantically trying to think of everything they would need. Looking at the older girl, Clem found herself bothered by the anxiety hanging on Sarah's face and the sadness in her eyes.

"Sarah, how about you come sit with me by the fire for a while?"

"Maybe in a minute." Sarah stood up. "I was going to check the maps Pete left us, in case we can't stay here we should have somewhere else picked out to go next." Clementine watched Sarah shuffle over to the living room where she retrieved the road atlas sitting on a shelf.

Clementine looked back at the cluttered and hastily written list Sarah had made and sighed. Reading all the things they needed to find, Clem found herself growing tired just thinking about it. But then she noticed something else. Sitting just past the list was the CD she took earlier that had the picture of a woman in white playing with two girls on the cover.

Clem added batteries to the CD player, placed the disc inside and turned it on. As the player started up, Clem flipped the disc case over. Looking at the track listings, she found one song whose name caught her eye. She pressed a button on the player to skip ahead to the right track. Clem eagerly stood there, waiting anxiously, then it happened..

Clem listened as orchestrated music started playing, the first music she had heard since her night at the ranger station. A swell of stringed instruments accompanied by an angelic harp found their way right into the small girl's heart. And the sounds of a plucky flute sent her skipping into the living room and right towards Sarah.  
_  
"Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,"_  sang the singer.  _"There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby."_

"Sarah." Clementine slowly slid her hand over the older girl's hand. "Come sit with me by the fire." Clementine tenderly grasped her fingers in between Sarah's.

"Okay." Sarah closed her fingers around Clem's, then accompanied the younger girl to the fireplace.  
_  
"Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue,"_  serenaded the singer as Clem sat down with Sarah in front of the fireplace.  _"And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true."_  The younger girl wrapped one arm around the older girl's waist, and then wrapped the older girl's arm around her own waist, firmly holding her hand as she did so.

"Sarah," spoke Clem in a sweet voice. "Tomorrow, I think I'm just going to stay right here."

"You want me to go out and look for supplies?" asked Sarah.

"No, I want you to stay here too."

"But, we need things, and—"

"And after tomorrow, we'll both work on getting everything we need, for as long as we need to," said Clementine. "But tomorrow, you and I are both going to stay right here."

"And, do what?"

"Whatever you want to do."

"I… I can't really think of anything."

"Well, I found a chessboard today. Maybe you could teach me how to play."

"That… that might be fun."

"And we could listen to music together, and talk."

"I'd like that."

"And we could play with OJ, and draw some pictures. You could read me that book I found."

"Maybe I could read it to you and Omid," suggested Sarah as she eyed the sleeping newborn in his crib.

"That sounds great." Clementine felt Sarah tighten her grip, grasping the hand Clem had tenderly wrapped around the older girl's waist. They sat closely entwined in front of the warm fire, enjoying each other's company as everything outside the walls of their humble home seemed to disappear from memory in the soothing sounds of the music.  
_  
"If happy little bluebirds fly, beyond the rainbow, why, oh why, can't, I?"_

"I love you Sarah."

"I love you Clementine."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any of you craving more story, check out Three Orphan Pilgrimage, the sequel to Young and Young at Heart. And also feel free to check out my novel, The Starlight Sentinels, on Amazon.com. It's a light-hearted story about a team of Superheroes struggling more with day to day annoyances then the forces of evil. 
> 
> I'd like to give a special thanks to the following members of Telltale's Walking Dead message boards, whose input and feedback not only helped to encourage me to write this story, but also helped to shape it into a better story as well.
> 
> Conviva Ebrius - For the excellent in depth talks regarding Telltale as a company and Season 2's numerous missed opportunities, as well as even challenging a major part of my own version of the story while all the well still encouraging me to write it. I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading my own personal version of Season 2 half as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Bokor - For the constant and enjoyable discussion regarding the creative processes that went into making Season 2 and how very differently they could have been done, along with a shared desire to see a story about two vulnerable young people depending on each other for support in a world full of cruel adults. And also for your comments regarding women's hair, which I found very intriguing.
> 
> Viva-La-Lee - For your overwhelming support and encouragement for my ideas and analyses about the Walking Dead Games as a whole, as well as sharing your own observations and experiences with the series, which I found helpful when considering my own desires in the kind of story I wanted to write.
> 
> Mikejames - For saying "I wanted acknowledgment that there's value to life beyond the ability to shoot a gun." A statement I often found myself considering in the writing of this story, as well as your comments regarding the possibilities of Clementine and Sarah's relationship and the discussions we had about them.
> 
> HugoCorv - For your idea on how to call back to the pinky swear, which I thought was brilliant, and was jealous that I hadn't thought of before you mentioned it.
> 
> GoldenPaladin - Because I liked you. (I still say Team Raccoon.)
> 
> o0HeaDShoT0o - For the warm welcome back you gave me. =)
> 
> NeophyteRadglare (AKA Archenic) - For reminding me why I spent so much time on Telltale's message boards by providing so much great conversation. Check out her fic, Stay. =)
> 
> And a very special thanks to you, the reader, for reading my story... unless you skipped here to the ending for some reason, in which case, thanks for reading that I guess. Feel free to jump back to the beginning if you want to know how exactly we got to this point. And of course, feel free to shoot me a message if you wanted to ask me anything about Young and Young at Heart. And if you liked the story don't forget to kudos it, tell your friends or maybe even leave a comment because I love getting feedback from my readers. =)
> 
> Cover art by Albaharu.  
> The Walking Dead property of Robert Kirkman.  
> The Walking Dead Game property of Telltale Games.  
> Warm and Tender, Over the Rainbow property of Olivia Newton-John.  
> Original characters and scenarios present in Young and Young at Heart property of J. Gray Dingler.


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